


The Devils You Know

by Noxren



Category: Grand Theft Auto V, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, Female Kerry, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Pre-Fake AH Crew, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 119,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7748221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noxren/pseuds/Noxren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how it starts. </p><p>Nine years ago, Geoff, a notorious bank robber was caught by the FIB, forced to fake his death, turn in his crew and flee Texas, leaving behind his business partner and best friend, Jack. Set up with a new name and a big fancy house, he thinks he’s left behind the game forever until he meets Gavin Free, trying to steal his car.</p><p>A serious of very bad decisions leads him to owing the biggest mobster in the city a lotta cash. Which means its time to put together a new crew. They aren’t exactly professionals - just a couple of small time crooks with big dreams.</p><p>But it isn’t easy to make it to the top of the criminal food chain in Los Santos. They’ll need high-powered guns, high-speed cars and some high stakes heists to prove to the world that their crew has got what it takes to stand with the pros. </p><p>Geoff doesn’t know if getting into the game again is the best or worst choice he’s ever made, but its sure gonna be one hell of ride.</p><p>/A Slow Burn, Poly Fake AH Crew Origin story/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gotta Get My Hands On Some (Money)

** The Devils You Know ** 

Part One

A Hard Knock Life  

Chapter One

Gotta Get My Hands On Some (Money) 

 

Geoff was royally fucked.

What was supposed to be a leisurely Memorial Day weekend spent boozing it up by the pool had snowballed into the most hellish 48 hours of his life - and in this case the snowball happened to be a shit pile rolling full speed down Fuck Mountain.

The worst part of it all was that he was supposed to be _done_. Done with “the life”. Done with the shootouts and shoot-ups, with all the stupid, fucking gangster bullshit. And here he was – being dragged kicking and screaming – right back into it.

_Fuck._

And it wasn’t even his fault.

Okay – it sort of fucking was, but what was a guy supposed to do, upon walking in on his wife getting down and dirty with some pony-tailed hippie schmuck? Just talk it out? Laugh it off? Make it a goddamned three-way?

A series of spur-of-the-moment decisions had led to this – standing... or rather, _kneeling_ before the most dangerous and notorious mobster in the city, wondering if this was the end of the line for him. Here he was, battered, bruised and bloody on the hard cement, with nothing but a fake name, a wife who didn’t love him, a house that wasn’t really his and a life he never really wanted.

At least he wasn’t completely alone. The kid was there too.

Backing up, the whole thing might have started with the kid, come to think of it.

           

* * *

_48 hours earlier_

It was another sweltering day in Los Santos. Geoff had driven his little Zion Cabrio down to the boardwalk. The car was pretty much his prized possession – nothing fancy or over the top, just a simple, black, two-seater convertible. It was fun enough to drive, especially on Sundays, when his wife went to church alone he’d putter around Los Santos with the top down, taking in the sights, enjoying the balmy air.

Today was one of those days. After parking the car he got out to stroll around the boardwalk. He grabbed a gyro to go and found himself wandering, checking out the tourists and assorted body-builders and bikini babes. Vespucci Beach attracted weirdos and hotties in equal measure, and was pretty much prime people-watching territory for the terminally bored. Though Geoff tried not to be creepy about it.

After polishing off his gyro and perusing some seaside shops selling cheap tourist-bait, it was time to call it a day.

Geoff was heading back towards his car; phone in hand, swiping through text messages from people he didn’t give a shit about when he saw him.

Some weedy kid with spiked blond hair and sunglasses was sitting in the front seat of his fucking car. Geoff reached for 9mm pistol hidden in the waistband holster under his shirt. Creeping up behind the kid, Geoff could hear him muttering under his breath. He was clearly trying – and failing – to hotwire the Cabrio.

This was going to be entertaining.

Checking for any nearby looky-loos, Geoff quickly and quietly slipped his pistol out of the holster and in one smooth motion leapt into the passenger seat of the car.

The kid startled something fierce, letting out an alarmed squawking noise. Geoff threw his left arm around the kid’s shoulders and used his right to press the gun into his side.

“Move, scream, or do anything I don’t tell you to do and you’re dead,” hissed Geoff, tightening his grip around the guy.

“Whaa-??” the blond started to shriek, but the cold muzzle of the gun digging into his ribs seemed to make him reconsider. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Who the hell are you? What do you want from me?”

So the kid was British.

“Sounds like you’re a long way from home, dude,” Geoff said, ignoring his questions. “I can’t imagine you’re family would be happy to hear you got shot trying to boost cars in broad daylight.”

“I’m not boosting anything! I’m repo’ing it! You know – for my job?”

“Bullshit,” Geoff growled. “I’ve had this car for months and I’ve never missed a payment. So either you’re a fucking idiot or you’re running some kind of credit fraud. Actually I’m kind of betting on both.”

“I’m not running bloody anything,” the kid whispered-screeched. “I’m just doing my damn job! I swear! Take it up with my boss!”

“Alright.” Geoff grinned, pulling his arm back from gripping the young man’s shoulder. “Put the top up so we can get some fucking privacy.”

“What?!” The alarm in the kid’s eyes as he gaped at Geoff was priceless.

“Relax, I’m not asking you to blow me,” he rasped, struggling to contain his laughter. “You’re gonna drive us to your boss, and me and him or her or whoever the fuck – are gonna have a nice little chat.”

“Bloody hell! That scared me worse than the damn gun.”

“Just put up the top and fucking drive asshole!”

 

* * *

 

“So what’s your name kid?” Geoff asked.

“Gavin,” he responded tersely. He brought the car to a sharp and sudden halt at a stoplight.

“So, Gavin, you gonna chill or are you planning on white-knuckling it the whole way there?” Geoff gestured to his iron grip on the steering wheel. “Cause your driving is giving me indigestion.”

“It’s not my fault, I’m not used to driving on the side of the road am I?” Gavin took a turn that was dangerously closing to mowing down a couple holding hands at the crosswalk. “Not to mention the effing gun jabbed into my side, s’making me a bit nervous!”

“Hey, you don’t need to worry about the gun unless you do something stupid. So you can unclench already.” He slapped Gavin on the back.

“So! Who’s this boss of yours? Can’t be too clever if they sent a jittery preteen Brit to do their repo’ing for ‘em.”

“I’m 24, for your information. And my boss is just some dude, I’m telling you, this is all just a big misunderstanding or whatever. I don’t know jack about any fraud!”

Geoff scoffed. “I can believe you don’t know anything about it – but that don’t mean your boss isn’t running some scam. And if he’s using dumb street kids who don’t know better to do the dirty dangerous work, he hardly seems like a legitimate business man.”

“That’s not what this is!”

“Sure kid, one day, I’ll treat you to a couple a beers and explain how the world really works, but for now, just fucking drive.”

Gavin sighed. “I know how the world bloody works,” he muttered under his breath.

A few block down the road, Gavin brought the car to a halt on the side of the road.

“This it?” Geoff asked.

“Yup,” Gavin supplied, staring straight ahead.

They had pulled up across from a small used car dealership, the front glass windows glinting in the sunlight. Geoff supposed he could stroll in, have a civilized discussion with Gavin’s boss, get what he wanted and stroll right back out without breaking any bones or even a sweat.

Geoff also supposed, _fuck it._

“Okay. Now drive into it. Fast. Right through the front window.”

Gavin swiveled in his seat, gaping at him. “You’re having a laugh!”

“I’m not “having a laugh” dude,” he mocked in a very shitty attempt at an English accent. “I’m being serious as dicks.”

“I’m not doing that!”

Slowly, Geoff moved the gun from where it was jammed up against the kid’s ribs to the back of his head.

“Do it,” he whispered venomously. “Or I put two rounds in the back of your skull.”

Gavin shuddered involuntarily.

“Eff me,” Gavin sighed. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He punched the car into drive. The tires screeched as he whipped to face the building. Geoff shot backward into his seat as they floored it, grinning. All the while, Gavin was screeching and swearing in increasing alarm as the car smashed spectacularly into the glass, the shards raining down upon them.

 

* * *

  

Gavin wasn't dead, at least. That was a good thing.

“Nice work kid!” said the crazy bastard who had been holding him at gun point just seconds ago. He hopped out of the car and Gavin followed suit.

“Here,” the guy said, pulling a wad of cash from his wallet and shoving it in Gavin's face. “I always pay up for a job well done.”

Gavin accepted the cash, realizing the 15 minutes of absolute terror had won him more money than he’d earned in a week working repos.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” Gavin stammered. “What’s your name?”

The madman turned to smirk at him. With his messy black hair, impish grin and rolled up shirtsleeves showing off heavily tatted arms, he looked a little crazed, a little devilish and a lot like Trouble with a capitol T. 

“I’m Geoff fucking Ramsey, bitch!” he shouted with glee, as if Gavin was supposed to know who the hell that was. 

And then - Gavin’s boss appeared from the back of the store, screaming and swearing up a storm. He rounded furiously on Geoff. Rather than looking angry or frightened or serious, Geoff was smiling casually - but with a greedy kind of bloodlust in his eyes. Gavin wondered how long the guy had been looking for an excuse to beat someone’s shit in.

And as Gavin watched Geoff gloriously and quite cheerfully kick his shithead of a boss’s ass into the ground with more efficiency and aplomb than he had ever seen before, he couldn’t help but think, _what the hell am I doing with my life?_

  

* * *

 

“Geoff fucking Ramsey” was not that hard to track down. It had taken him less than an hour to get the guy’s address off his boss’s computer. Gavin supposed he ought to be glad of it, since he really wasn’t up for dicking around on the internet for days on end in search of the guy – but instead he found himself feeling slightly disappointed.

Once he had heard his name, Gavin thought he _had_ to be some big wig in the Los Santos crime world.

But according to his findings, Geoff Ramsey was no one, really. The guy was clean as whistle in terms of arrest records. He had a few parking and speeding tickets, all paid on time. He worked an uninteresting but high paying job at a company Gavin had never heard of. Had a hot wife, a nice house with a pool in Rockford Hills, no outstanding debt and modest investments in several local businesses. In short - the dude was boring as hell. 

Which was suspicious. Because Geoff had not seemed boring – he seemed the opposite of boring in fact.

So Gavin suspected he was hiding something. Which meant he was going to investigate. And that meant taking the man up on his offer of drinks. Gavin stood up from where he was seated at his boss’s computer.

“I’m off then,” he shouted out into the showroom. His best mate Dan was out on the floor, supervising the workers who had come to replace the glass window that had been destroyed.

“You’re mad, going to see that dude!” Dan shouted back.

Gavin stepped out of the office, leaning against the doorframe. “How so?”

“He nearly murders our boss and now you’re off to go suck his dick?”

“Am not!” Gavin protested. “He offered me beers, so I’m going. When have I ever turned down bevs?”

“So you’re just gonna sod off for a pint and leave me to deal with this mess?” he pouted.

A sulking Dan was never easy to deal with. His boyishly handsome features seemed to make everyone wet themselves trying to please him. Luckily having known him for years, Gavin was immune to his charms. Mostly.

“I was sacked remember? I’m not even supposed to be here! Since you let me in, you’re the one whose going to be in trouble if – ” he was cut off as Dan grabbed him and began shoving him towards the door.

“Alright, alright, fuck off then, don’t do anything stupid!” Dan laughed.

“I’ll be careful. See ya later, B.”

“Yeah, later it is then.” Dan waved him off.

 

* * *

 

            Gavin brought his Blista to a stop on the hill outside of Geoff’s house. His boss had given the car to him when he had told him he had no ride of his own to drive. Gavin had initially thought it to be a kind gesture, but it seemed rather that both his boss and Dan enjoyed having a laugh at watching him putter around in the hideous purple vehicle.

            Sighing, Gavin got out of the car and looked up at the house. It was one of those big, Spanish renaissance houses that rich people seemed to like so much. The entire place was fenced in with a gate, and from having driven round the back; the house had a pool and an entire tennis court on the property.

“Bloody rich people, who needs all this crap?” Gavin muttered to himself

He dashed across the street. The gate had an intercom out front, but ringing in seemed to be a bad, especially if someone else answered.

“Guess I’m climbing the fence then.”

He doubted Geoff would just let him in anyway if he rang at the gate. By sneaking in, if Geoff wasn’t home, he could snoop for more information. If Geoff _was_ home, all he needed was a few minutes with him to figure out if the guy was somebody in the game, somebody who could get him some work that didn’t involve repos that weren’t really repos and making the kind of cash he had tossed at him earlier.

“Here goes nothing,” he said, before clambering over.

 

* * *

 

Geoff was trying very hard to forget the last two days. After beating the shit out of Gavin’s boss, Geoff has returned home to get the verbal ass-kicking of a lifetime from his wife. She had a lot of questions about the state of his car, and the state of him – black and blue and covered in cuts from scrabbling around in the broken glass during the fight. Geoff had tried to explain, but in the end it didn’t really matter. She just wanted to someone to go off on and Geoff would have been the target of her wrath regardless of his most recent fuck-ups.

He was fairly sure Gavin’s boss wouldn’t be pressing charges from the broken window or the beat down – not after Geoff had threatened to expose his whole car theft ring. So he figured it was best to forget it had ever happened and instead focus on getting back in the wife’s good graces.

But first – a drink.

He sank into a lounge chair by his pool, whiskey in one hand, MP3 player in the other. This was what he was supposed to be doing this summer. Relaxing by the pool, sipping drinks and listening to good tunes – not picking fights and holding people at gunpoint. Those days were over now, no use in stirring up old shit…

Though he couldn’t deny it, the thrill of it all – that was what he missed most. It felt like living – like really fucking living – his life now was more akin to floating along without purpose, occasionally being pushed by forces beyond his control.

What had happened to the young man who had fought tooth and nail for all he had? Who had struggled in the filth and shit of the world for every meager piece of good fortune life could chuck his way? He had being poor and miserable, but the fight, the drive forward, the hunt for something _more_ \- that always made each day a thrill worth getting up for. He missed that young man.

But he was long gone. Dead and buried in the red Texas dirt.

“You got more of those?” a voice called, shaking him from his recollections. A very unmistakable voice.

Geoff glanced over his sunglasses at the kid – Gavin – he remembered. He was dressed casually in a faded grey t-shirt, shorts and sneakers.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Gavin strolled up, standing over him. “Came for the bevs, you offered remember?” He shrugged.

“I wasn’t really serious about that,” Geoff muttered under his breath, sitting up. 

“What?”

“Nothing. Have a seat I guess.” He gestured to the lounge chair beside him.

Gavin plopped himself down. “You got another glass?” He gestured to Geoff’s own glass and the bottle sitting on the side table.

“Nah, just take mine.”

Gavin poured two fingers of whiskey into Geoff’s empty cup.

“Don’t be a bitch man,” Geoff huffed.

Gavin laughed and filled the cup to the brim before shooting it down with gusto.

“Eff me,” he rasped. “Good stuff.”

“So. Why are you really here? ” Geoff asked. He watched the young man set the glass down carefully and then run a hand through his untidy hair. “Not gonna try steal more of my shit are ya?”

“I never did in the first place!” He cried, incensed, before lowering his voice. “Besides that was a repo, I mean, I thought it was a repo, honestly. Didn’t know we were boosting cars for real, didn’t tell me that, the prick. Just gave me a list of makes and models with plates and told me to take ‘em back.”                

“So I’m guessing you’re no longer employed, huh?”

Gavin nodded. “My, mate, Dan is though. Left home and came to the states together. We were hoping to find better work, but that job was the only one we could get on short notice. Someone here?” Gavin tilted his head, listening to the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.

“Just the wife coming home from wherever-the-fuck… So you’re here cause what, I look like a rich schmuck who likes to throw his money around eh?”

“No! I just… okay. I looked you up. Online. And you’re clean, suspiciously so. Anyone with half a brain has to figure that means your either the most boring guy on the planet, or you’ve got some kind past you’ve buried under all this.” Gavin gestured to the glimmering blue pool, the bright green tennis courts, the mansion, looming over them. “So which is it?”

Geoff sat up straight. “You jumped across the pond to get into the game? The LS scene is a little big for some small-town brit who can barely drive, don’t ya think?”

“I jumped across the pond cause I had no other bloody choice. And you dodged the question.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m retired.” Geoff shifted back into his seat.

“You’re a bit young for that aren’t you?”

“Just a bit?” Geoff asked with a laugh.

“Well, more than a bit, to be fair. You’re what like, thirty-ish? So you made you’re money doing – I don’t know – _crime stuff_ , and then packed it in after like a decade and said that’s it? Why?” Gavin questioned. 

The kid was staring at him, intently, his green eyes bright and curious and so fucking hopeful.

_Fuck._

No. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t drag this kid down that long, dark road. He couldn’t drag _himself_ down it either.

“Look, you seem, pretty fucking alright. So I’m gonna give you some unasked for advice here. Forget this gangster shit. Cause I’m not some – damn, _aspiration_ , or whatever. I’m one of the lucky ones - I got out alive. You go down that road I can guarantee you’ll spend every year you got left in your life fucking over everyone you love and then fucking yourself right into the ground. So stay the hell away. Go to college. Make your money screwing over hard-working folks the legal way. Capitalism!” He gestured wildly.

Gavin glared at him for a bit, seemed to puff up, almost angry, before deflating. “So that’s it then? Then, yesterday was what? Some sad old sap reliving the glory days? Rallying before the slow, depressing descent into middle age? I don’t bloody get it…”

“You don’t have to get it, just take my advice. Being an old depressing fuck is better than being a dead depressing fuck.”

Gavin snorted. “Still depressing either way though eh?”

Geoff couldn’t help but laugh too. “Guess so!”

He sat up suddenly, clapping his hands together. “Alright then, the least I can fucking do is get you a beer after all that miserable shit. Let’s go, there’s a new bar I wanna try. 

Gavin trailed after him. “Oh, before I forget, can I get your number? It’d be nice to know someone here ‘sides Dan and my wanker ex-boss. It is Geoff with a "G" right?”

He pulled out his phone and began making a new contact.  

“Yup, Geoff with a “G”. Here,” said Geoff, grabbing his phone from his hands. “I’ll punch in my number. Then gimme a call so I can save it…”

He trailed off, looking down at Gavin’s phone.

And then began laughing hysterically.

“What?” Gavin screeched. Geoff seemed to be having trouble standing he was laughing so hard, one hand on his knee, and the other waving Gavin’s phone back in his face.

“What the hell is this?” Geoff gasped through manic tears.    

“Hold still you mong! I can’t effing see it can I?” Gavin grappled with Geoff for a moment before wrestling it out of his hands.

He glanced at the phone screen, trying to comprehend what Geoff was finding so hysterical. “WHAT?” he shrieked again, seeing Geoff doubling over. 

“You spelled Geoff wrong you IDIOT!” he hooted. “Fucking G-O-E-F-F. Who the fuck is Go-eff?”

“I don't know anyone named Geoff, how am I supposed to know how it’s spelled?!” he asked, embarrassed. “It’s not that funny, CHRIST.”

“Go-eff yourself , dumbass!” Geoff responded gleefully.

“Geoff…” Gavin whined.

Collecting himself, Geoff grabbed Gavin’s phone from his hands again, punching in his number and letting out the occasional giggle.

“It’s Go-Eff now, dumbass, you better leave it that way or I’ll fucking find you,” he said gleefully, handing Gavin the phone back. “Now call me so we can get this show on the road.”

“Prick,” said Gavin, but rang Geoff all the same. 

“That was the funniest thing I’ve seen in my whole goddamn life.”

Gavin snorted. “Then your life’s been pretty damn sad!”

“Never gonna let you live that down, buddy!” Geoff grabbed his shoulders and began steering him towards the front of the house. “Lets grab that drink!”

 

* * *

 

Later, Geoff would wonder where his life would have gone if he’d simply gone for that drink with Gavin, ignoring the strange car parked in his driveway behind his wife’s.

“We’ll have to take my old work truck. Haven’t got around to fixing my Cabrio yet,” Geoff said, heading around the side of the garage towards the front.

Parked behind his truck was an unfamiliar car, a green Dilettante.

“Who’s here then?” Gavin asked, approaching from behind.

“Dunno. Probably the yoga instructor, usually he comes while I’m at work.”

“An electric car, get good gas mileage those, ugly as shite though.” Gavin circled the car. “Wanna take mine? You’re blocked in.”

“Nah, I’ll get him to move it, wait here, be back in a jiff.” Geoff disappeared through the front door.

 

* * *

 

Gavin leaned up against the house. He didn’t have to wait long.

Soon he heard muffled shouting, coming from above. He moved back and glanced up at the large stained glass window on the second story. Things sounded heated enough that he was debating going inside when - suddenly there were shards of colored glass falling all around him. The flower box came tumbling down along with man in nothing but gym socks and knickers. The mostly naked man made a mad dash towards the parked Dilettante, scrambling into it.

Then, Geoff burst through the front door, red faced, cursing and wielding a broken lamp, along with frenzied woman wrapped in a sheet who had to be Geoff’s wife.

“Hey! Stop him!” The woman shouted at Gavin, as Geoff attempted to barrel past him.

“What’s happening?” Gavin questioned, glancing between them.

“What do you think happened? She fucked that asshole! In my house! In my bed!” Geoff raged, tossing the lamp after the man in his underwear who had peeled out, tires screeching.

“It wasn’t like that, this is all a misunderstanding!” His wife cried. Geoff shoved past Gavin, ignoring her completely, stomping towards the truck. Seeming to realize she was fighting a losing battle, she huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Just, please don’t kill him!”

“Well?” asked Geoff, wrenching open the driver’s side door of the truck. “You in?”

Gavin looked back at the pleading woman, and towards Geoff, whose intense grey eyes were boring into his, making those three words seem as if they led to a thousand more possibilities. It was an easy choice.

“Course I’m in. Let’s get the bastard!”

And they were off.

 

* * *

  

“Left, left!” cried Gavin. “Into the hills, the shitbox is heading for the hills!”

“He’ll be heading straight to Hell once I’m done with him!” Geoff spun the wheel; narrowly missing a head-on collision as they followed the Dilettante zipping into the Vinewood Hills neighborhood.

“So we murdering… or?” Gavin asked, nervous. Murdering wasn’t exactly against his code of ethics, some people bloody well deserved it, but Geoff hardly seemed in the right state of mind to pull off a murder that wouldn’t get them nabbed for it. 

“He’ll certainly wish he was dead,” Geoff responded darkly. “That okay with you?”

“You do what you have to, I got your back! Right, he’s going right now!”

Geoff slammed on the breaks just in time, just missing a van that was attempting to park in the slowest fashion ever.

“MOVE, FUCKER!” Geoff shouted, flipping the guy the bird out the window.

Just as Gavin did the same thing, screeching, “GET OUT THE WAY YOU MINCY LITTLE PRICK!”

Geoff couldn’t help but smirk at the kid’s antics. He was funny in his own spazzy, oddball way.

“Can’t see him. Where’s he gone?” Gavin asked.

“He lives up in the canyon somewhere, keep your eyes peeled dude, we’ll find him.”

They followed the lines of houses, all perched precariously on stilts on the cliff’s edge, overlooking the glittering city below.

“Rich pricks just can’t live without their million quid views, can they?” Gavin said. “Oh shite! Geoff, Geoff, Geoff! That’s his car innit! Turn here!”

Geoff shoved Gavin’s slapping hands away from his shoulder and took the turn. They pulled up to one of the big, stilted house with a monstrous deck, where they could see the douchebag of the century standing, still down to his knickers, staring at them.

“Aw, bet he’s shitting his pants now, eh?” Gavin said gleefully.

“Geoff!” the dude shouted. “Let’s talk about this! You really got the wrong idea bro! You’re wife said you had an arrangement!”

“I’ll arrange your fucking funeral, bitch! Now get your little ass down here and fight me like a man!”

“Make love, not war dude! Lets talk it out! No need to resort to violence!”

Geoff paced below, irate. Gavin could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears.

“What do you wanna do? Climb the cliff? Drive around?” he asked.

Geoff looked up, and then back at the truck. An idea seemed to be dawning on him. “I’ve got a better idea. There’s a winch in the back of the truck. Tie the cable to one of those supports up there.” 

“We pulling his house down?” Gavin asked, torn between distress and delight.

“We’re damn well gonna try.”

“Top.”

Geoff tore the guy a new asshole as Gavin attached the winch to the support beams of the house. He gave Geoff a thumbs up and jogged back to the truck. Glancing back up at the deck he noticed a dark-skinned, silver-haired woman had appeared next to the douchebag, she seemed to staring at the guy with particular venom.

“You fucking fuck! Not coming down here? Fine! I’ll bring your whole motherfucking house down!” Geoff screamed.

Gavin quickly followed Geoff into the truck.

The guy continued screaming from the deck. Gavin heard one more pleading, _“You’ve got the wrong idea pal!”_ followed by a terrified _“OH FUCK!”_ as Geoff ignored him and began to drive.

Through the dust and smoke tossed up by the churning tires, Gavin watch as one support gave, and then another, along with bits of deck, which began tumbling down the cliff below. Then, the whole back half of house just sort of collapsed in on itself, and slid thunderously down the mountain in great chunks and slabs.

“This is mad! Effing mad!” Gavin exclaimed, turning back to face Geoff. “I can’t believe we just did that!” 

“Yeah well, remind me to pinch you later. Let’s get the fuck outta hear before the police show.” Geoff kicked the car into gear and drove off.

The single act of aggression, violence, insanity, whatever it was, seemed to relieve him, at least temporarily, of the stress and anger that had been covering him like a cloud. He relaxed into his seat.

“Nothing like pulling some idiot’s house down to brighten your day eh?” Gavin asked with a smile.

Geoff couldn’t help but smile back. “Something like that.”

“This has been mad. And fun, thanks for –” Gavin started, stopping when he heard Geoff’s phone ring from inside his pocket.

“Hello?" 

“Mr. Ramsey, that wasn’t my fucking house!” came the voice on the other end. It was the douchefaced yoga dude.

“Bullshit,” Geoff responded instantly.

“Dude, I swear, what kinda salary you think I make teaching yoga? I was just hiding out there!”

There was a rustling sound from the other end of the phone, and Geoff heard a woman’s voice swearing vehemently. “Give me the phone, dumbass!”

“Okay so… Ramsey is it?” The female voice asked. 

“Uhh… yeah?”

“Friendly warning; you’re fucked dude.” Her voice had a casual nonchalance to it that Geoff found somewhat disconcerting.

“Oooh, I’m so scared.”

She laughed, low and almost pitying. “You should be. Dragovic is coming for you, just saying.”

And then she hung up.

“What was that?” Gavin asked anxiously.

“Nothing, just some…” Geoff trailed off as he spotted two huge black SUVs coming up on him _, fast._

“Bollocks, Geoff, they’ve got-” Gavin ducked down, scarcely missing a bullet shooting through the back window and out the front. Geoff floored it, speeding off down the road with the SUVs in hot pursuit.

“Fuck!” he shouted as the shots rang out. Goons in suits were leaning out the windows, popping off rounds like it was nothing. “You got a piece on you Gav?”

Gavin was scrunched down in his seat, chin tucked to his chest eyes wide. “Yeah?”

“Then fucking use it! I’m gonna try to lose ‘em!”

They sped down the road, dodging oncoming traffic and pedestrians to avoid the onslaught of bullets. The men in suits seemed to have no compunction about who they ran down or who got in the way of their guns. Gavin’s own shooting was less than stellar, but at least of few of the gunmen had taken a hit or two; one was even unconscious or dead, hanging halfway out the window. 

“If you can’t hit them, go for the fucking tires,” Geoff advised, taking them down sharp turn after sharp turn.

Gavin shot his remaining bullets into the tires of the closest truck, and watched as it careened off the side, crashing mightily into a pole. Smoke poured out the hood of the car and the goons inside dragged themselves out, coughing and sputtering.

“Go, go, go! One’s down, get into an alleyway or something!” Gavin screamed.         

They pulled down a side street, and then into a back lot that led to a cramped alley. The truck barely fit, and they’d be fucked if they were found. Geoff trusted that their other pursuers were far enough behind to have lost sight of them.    

They waited, breathless, hearts beating heavy in their chests.

“I think we’re okay.” Geoff said after fifteen minutes. “We’ll loop around and head to my place the long way.”

“Kay.” Gavin sighed shakily. He felt like he’d just lost ten years off his life.

They ran into no further trouble on the way back. As Geoff opened the gate to his house and pulled in, he turned to look at Gavin. Geoff had never been all that great at showing his appreciation, but the kid definitely deserved it. He was clearly shaken up, and was looking rather green, but he had stuck with him and risked his life without complaint. That was something, more of a something than anyone else had given him in a long, _long_ , time.

“Thanks man,” he said, voice serious. “You did good, saved our asses back there.”

Gavin seemed startled by the gratitude. “Course, I mean, I’m not the best with a gun, but, hey, we're alive!”

Geoff grinned. “Yeah, you’re shooting wasn’t perfect, but that’s okay… we can work on it.”

They stepped outside together. It was almost strange how normal of a day it seemed, still sunny and warm. Gavin half expected the sky to be burning or to see explosions going off after what had been the most intense 20 minutes of his life. 

“So what was that? Who sent those guys after us?” he asked Geoff.

Geoff shrugged. “Not sure. The chick on the phone said something about some dude coming after me, D-something. No idea who it was.”

As he said it, another SUV pulled into the driveway. This one was different from, the rest – a matte black Benefactor, dark tinted windows, armored to shit. Geoff almost made a grab for Gavin, hoping to drag him to cover, but it was too late. Men with guns were already piling out of the back.

“I think we’re about to find out,” Gavin said weakly from his side.

Finally, the man they were all waiting for arrived, stepping gracefully out of the passenger’s side door. Geoff had always thought there was a creepy sort of agelessness that only the extremely rich seemed to posses. This guy had that exact kind of creepiness in _spades_ \- from his slicked back salt and pepper hair, to his pale, paper-thin but oddly smooth skin, and the sharp, arching black eyebrows poised over dead, colorless eyes. 

The driver followed suit, and Gavin saw that it was the woman who had been on the deck before, the one with a silver hair, perhaps the same one who had spoken on the phone with Geoff.

The pair approached Geoff and Gavin, flanked by two sets of the men in suits, who aimed their guns at them. One of the men cold-cocked Gavin with the end of his rifle. Gavin fell to his knees, sputtering. Another man kicked him in the stomach.

“Hey!” Geoff protested, before one of the other goons knocked him down as well. He grabbed Geoff by back of his shirt and slammed his face into the ground, giving him a couple of heavy kicks to the gut for good measure.

After giving them a thorough beating, the gunmen forced them back up, onto their knees. Geoff winced as he felt their rifles jab back into his neck.

A cold sort of terror swept through him.

_This was it, this was fucking it, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK…_

“Do you know who I am?” the man asked calmly, buttoning his neat, black suit. 

“Uhhh… I…” Geoff stammered. His words were lost to him. 

“You then,” the man turned his cold gaze towards Gavin. “Do you know who I am?”

Geoff peered at Gavin. He had gone white-faced and slack-jawed. He thought he would be too terrified to speak, but Gavin seemed to compose himself a second before nodding. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good. I know who you are, Mr. Geoffrey _Ramsey_. I know where you live.” He glanced up at the house.

“Now, you, identification.” He gestured towards Gavin. Gavin slowly pulled his wallet out from his back pocket as the man’s goon jammed their guns painfully into his neck and side. He handed his wallet off to one of the men, who passed it along to his boss. 

“Mr. Gavin Free,” he read with quiet distaste. “I know who you are and I know where you live. Now, tell Mr. Ramsey here who I am.” 

“This is Mr. Dragovic. He’s the head of the Family? You know Geoff, one of the biggest organizations in the criminal underworld?” 

Gavin’s voice had an edge of desperation that made Geoff’s heart skip a beat. He may have never heard the name, Dragovic, but he knew who the fucking Family was. The mob. _The goddamn mob_. He had inadvertently fucked with some of the worst possible people to fuck with ever, in the history of the world.

“Do you understand who you are dealing with now, Mr. Ramsey?” Dragovich asked.

Geoff nodded numbly. 

“Excellent. Mica, would you bring our other guest out to me, please?”

The young woman went to the back of the SUV. Geoff wasn’t particularly shocked to see her pull a bound and gagged, and still mostly naked man from the back.

“I take it your little adventure in Vinewood Hills today had something to do with this man?” Dragovich gestured towards the whimpering and shaking figure.

“Yeah. He uhh… banged my wife. In my bed… so I kinda lost it.”

“When you “lose it” do you normally find yourself gripped with the desire to pull 3 million dollars houses down mountains?” He asked.

“No. That was, incredibly stupid of me, I’m sorry s-" 

Dragovic silenced him with a wave of his hand. “You’re apologies are useless to me. You will do three things for me, and if you do them well, perhaps I will forget your lapse in judgment.”

Geoff watched silently as Dragovich held up three fingers. 

“First, Mica will need a hotel while the house is being rebuilt. You will transfer whatever funds she requires to her, immediately. Nod if you’re following along.”

Geoff nodded. 

“Second, you will finance the rebuild yourself. As I said I expect it will cost somewhere in the realm of 3 million dollars. If you don’t have that sort of money lying around, I expect you will find someway to get it. I can’t imagine it will be terribly difficulty for you, given your… skill set.” He glanced at Geoff again, waiting.

He felt himself nodding once more.

“And finally…” Dragovic turned to look at Mica, who suddenly pulled the bound man from his place on the ground and pushed him towards Geoff, where he collapsed again, crying through his gag. “You will do what you should have done in the first place. Kill this man.”

Geoff glanced down at the guy, who not long ago had seemed like the worst fucking person on the planet. Now, kneeling there bruised and broken himself, with the epitome of evil glaring down at him, he felt he could happily skip off into the sunset with the hippie douchebag if it meant never having to look Dragovic in the eye again.

“Do you understand, Mr. Ramsey?” his voice was so tranquil and soulless it might have belonged to a machine.

Geoff nodded one last time. “I understand.”

And he did. Take one life, save two, possibly more, including his wife and whatever family or friends Gavin had. It was an easy trade. And Geoff had traded in death before.

Dragovich passed him a small, silenced pistol. He felt the rifles press threateningly against his skull in silent warning. He could have shot Dragovich then and there; killing the most dangerous man in the city. He and Gavin would die heroes, their names going down in history.

Geoff didn’t give a fuck about history or heroics. He just wanted to live.

He pulled the trigger.

The man died quietly, blood pooling around his head. Geoff was glad his face was pressed against the ground. He heard Gavin gag beside him, and was reminded very suddenly that this was real, this was happening. He wanted so desperately to not be in the moment that he felt like he might pass out from the strain of trying to be somewhere, anywhere else. 

“Get rid of it.” Dragovic gestured to two of his men, who scooped up the body and moved it back towards the SUV. Another man snatched the pistol out of Geoff’s hand.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Ramsey. I’ll be keeping my eye on you.” Dragovic strode off without another word.

The silver-haired woman, _Mica_ , glanced down at them, pensive. 

“I told you,” she said finally. There was something almost melancholy in the way she shook her head at them. She turned around too and she, along with Dragovich and his goons pulled away.

Leaving behind nothing but a pool of blood in the driveway.

Gavin found his voice first.

“So…” he said. “What’s next?”          

Geoff responded with the only thing he was thinking, the word that was flowing through his mind like a hymn.

“Money.” He got to his feet, pulling Gavin up along with him. “I gotta get my hands on some goddamn money.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some added notes:  
> \- These first chapters follow the plot of GTA 5 story mode, but you don't have to be familiar with that to read.  
> \- The characters are all much closer in age for story reasons.  
> \- I may add additional content and relationship tags later.  
> \- All the chapter titles are taken from songs from the radio station songs in the various GTA games.
> 
> Chapter Song Title:  
> Gotta Get My Hands On Some (Money) by The Fatback Band (GTA 5)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	2. What's Next?

  **The Devils You Know**

Part One

A Hard Knock Life 

Chapter Two

What’s Next?

 

  _“What’s next?”_ Gavin had asked. The answer was so simple; Geoff wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of it earlier. It would mean digging up the past, rooting around in shit he thought he’d never have to deal with again, but he could handle all that, if it meant not ending up on the wrong end of a mobster’s gun.

The only person he could think of that would be able to help a guy like him get that kind of money on short notice was Gustavo Sorola. Sorola was a genius recluse, someone who had helped him and his crew out on jobs back in Texas. He had proved to be an invaluable resource. His trade was secrets, information and all kinds of technical data. He had the digital world at his fingertips and he could fuck or unfuck someone’s whole life with the click of a mouse.

If anyone knew how to get that kinda money fast, it was Gus.

Geoff just had to hope his old number was still connected. He had called it so many times in the past, he still had the digits memorized.

“Hey, yeah would this happen to be the number for Gus Sorola?” Geoff asked after dialing.

“Who’s asking?” came the deep, slightly bleary sounding voice on the other end.

Geoff smiled. It _was_ him. “Who’s asking, “Who’s asking?””

“Pretty damn cagey for a dead man… Geoff.”

“You don’t sound too surprised. You been keeping track of me buddy?”

"Of course I have. That’s why I know you’re living in Los Santos, like me. So why don’t you shuffle that reanimated corpse of yours down to see me… I’m in Murietta Heights, I’ll text you the address.”

Before Geoff could respond, the line went dead. A few seconds later his phone blipped with a new message, this time from a different number. He saved the contact and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

At least he had a plan. The start of a plan.

 

* * *

 

Gavin was home. If the shithole of an apartment he shared with Dan could even be called that. It was a cramped studio they had furnished almost entirely with stuff they had found through dumpster diving and picking up unwanted shit people left on their sidewalks.

Dan was out now. Gavin had just spent the last hour with his best mate, recapping the events of the past few days. He had explained away his injures as having come from a fight with Geoff’s wife’s lover. He had left out the parts where he and Geoff had almost died, both to spare Dan the worry and to spare himself the lecture. Better to let Dan think he and Geoff were embarking on some exciting new business venture together than to think they had gotten themselves tied up with the most dangerous mobster in the city. He wasn’t keen on keeping secrets from his only friend, but Dan was under the impression that Gavin was as eager to leave behind a life of crime as he was. The truth was, Gavin wasn’t sure he could leave it behind. It felt like the only thing he knew.

Gavin had tried once to lead a normal life. He had made the mistakes of running from the people he owed, the people his family owed. Once he felt he had run far enough, he started up a new life, gotten a new legitimate job in a small town. He met Dan and made friends, had a normal life for three fantastic years before it had all come crashing down. The people he owed caught up to him, and Dan got caught in the crossfires. He had to run again. This time, not across the country, but across the ocean.

Dan had given up a hell of a lot when he had chosen to flee England with Gavin a year ago. So Gavin reasoned that best thing he could do to repay his friend was to try to keep him as far away from gangsters and mobsters as possible.

Though it had turned out the repo job wasn’t exactly clean, it was a hell of a lot safer than the mess Gavin had gotten himself into. Besides, Dan seemed to actually _like_ his job. He had been over the moon when the boss had named him employee of the month, and had been moving up the ladder far faster than Gavin.

So it was for the best. They had both found their places in their new lives. At least that’s what Gavin kept telling himself.

After Dan had headed off for work, Gavin laid down on the couch, careful of his aching limbs and bruises.

He wasn’t sure if getting involved with Geoff was going to pay off, or end up being the worst mistake of his life, but now it didn’t matter. He would do what he had to do to make it out alive, and if that meant throwing in with Geoff, then so be it.

From inside his pocket, his phone gave a little buzz.

Gavin grabbed at it, and upon seeing the name “Goeff” pop up, he answered.

“Go-Eff! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Geoff chuckled on the other end. “I got a decent lead, dude. I’m heading out to meet with an old buddy of mine, Gus. I think he might be able to find us a job that’ll get us some cash.”

“Top!” Gavin said. “Do you need me with you?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. I’ll call you once I know anything. Keep your phone on you, cause I wanna get started on this as soon as possible. No need to spend anymore time under that asshole’s thumb than we have to.”

Gavin nodded. “Sounds good. You transfer money for that girl’s hotel yet?”

“Yeah,” Geoff sighed. “One of his little goonies got in contact with me, said to make a “sizable donation” to some bullshit charity. I gave ‘em half my fucking savings and the guy starts pissing and moaning that it wasn’t enough for little miss princess or whatever.”

“So you had to give them everything you had or what?” Gavin asked, appalled.

“Just about! They knew exactly how much I had saved up! Creepy as shit! So we need to get this fucking money ASAP before I end up on the fucking street!”

“Well you can always come stay with me Geoffy,” Gavin teased.

“Yeah, that’ll be the day,” Geoff grumbled. “Anyway! I better get my ass in gear. I’ll give you a ring once I know what’s what.”

“Sure thing, be careful alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be careful as dicks dude. Talk to you later.”

“Later.” Gavin hung up.

It felt good to have a plan. Like Geoff said, the sooner they got this over and done with, the better.

 

* * *

 

Gus Sorola lived in a shitty neighborhood - that was for sure. Murrieta Heights was a residential area surrounded by warehouses, factories and busy freeway intersections. Assaulted by the constant din of cars zooming by and industry chugging away, and forever masked by a healthy coating of smog and exhaust. It was exactly the kind of place someone who wanted to hide away from the gleam and glamour of the city would go.

Geoff found Gus’s place easily enough. It wasn’t the secret underground bunker he was hoping it was – just a sort of run down looking house with a crooked roof, surrounded by broken fencing.

He went to the front and knocked twice before spotting the little video camera watching him from above the door. Gus always was a bit of a paranoid bastard. He smiled into the camera and flipped it the bird.

“Ya gonna let me in, or do I have to know the secret password?”

The door popped open. Geoff stepped through, looking around to find no one on the other side. He couldn’t help but notice the excess of useless shit Gus kept lying around. He supposed the other man found _some_ use in keeping boxes upon boxes of old newspapers, VHS tapes and electronics that looked like they were older than Gavin. But for what purpose, Geoff couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“I’m back here!” came a voice from the next room over.

Geoff entered a dim room, illuminated only by the glow of several computer screens. Sitting in front of them was Gus, hunched over, typing away.

“So the dead man returns!” Gus said theatrically, spinning around in his chair. One leg was crossed over his knee, and he was tapping his fingertips together like the cheesiest of Jace Boon villains. “Let me guess - you need my help.”

Geoff sighed. Sweeping a bunch of papers off an armchair in the corner, he took a seat.

“What gave it away?”

Gus shrugged. “You’re here. Why else? Not like I was expecting a social call from a man almost ten years dead.”

Geoff couldn’t help but feel guilt churning in his gut. He had left his fair share of friends behind when he’d faked his death back in Texas. It hadn’t been easy, knowing how much he was going to hurt them, knowing how much he was going hurt for never getting to see them again. But the ones he missed the most, the ones that hit him the hardest were Gus, Joel and…

He supposed it didn’t matter. All he could do now was apologize and hope to make it up somehow. Cause there really was no one else.

“I’m sorry,” he said, low and sincere. “Fucking off for ten years was bad enough I’m sure, pretending to be dead was a thousand times worse. I’m guessing you figured out that I had reasons and shit, but… I’m still sorry, nonetheless.”

“It was a sad time for all of us, man, back in Texas. We lost a good buddy. I was depressed as hell about it for a while, before I did some digging, found you alive again, found out _why_ you did what you did. Gotta say though, getting cozy with the FIB? Strange move for a “fuck the system” kinda guy like you. Then again, seems like the system is really all you got, these days.”

Geoff’s felt his breath catch in his throat. If anyone were to have figured out what had really happened, it would be Gus, of course. “You didn’t…”

“Tell anyone? No, course not. I know what you did for me, man. You never mentioned my name to anyone, and I’m not on any lists anywhere. I’m a free man. You didn’t betray me, not speaking for any others, but me and you? We’re good, far as I’m concerned. I kept your secret all these years as a favor to you, but also to everyone you left behind. Better to let them think you’re gently decomposing in a grave in Texas rather than angrily decomposing in LS with a big fancy house and a wife who don’t love you no more.”

“Yeah, well, I guess we both did each other a solid than.”

Gus nodded, seemingly satisfied enough with that answer. “So this’ll be just like old times. You need something. I just happen to need something too. Maybe we can help each other out.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll help however I can dude, long as it doesn’t cost me any fucking money, kinda running low on that at the moment.”

“So, I hear.”

Geoff raised an eyebrow. “You know about it then? Damn dude, you really got your finger on the pulse here in LS huh?”

“I certainly try,” Gus said, turning back to his computers. “But we can discuss you and your various problems later. My issue is a little more time sensitive than yours, believe or not. If you can take care of it for me, I’ll do what I can for you.”

“Sure, whatcha got?” Geoff asked, scooting up in his seat.

"What I got is this asshole here,” Gus said, gesturing to his screen.

Geoff squinted at the image of the man on the computer. “Isn’t that…?”

"The CEO of Lifeinvader? The lying asshole who builds phones cobbled together from the minerals dug up by the bloody hands of poor orphan children? The fucker who makes billions selling your private information to China and Russia? The _bastard_ who –”

“Okay, okay!” Geoff cried, cutting him off. “I get it. You don’t like the guy, what do you want me to do? Kill him?”

“Don’t like the guy, you can say that again…” Gus muttered away as he punched at his keyboard. “But to answer your question – yes.”

“Yes, you want me to kill him?”

Gus nodded. “But, not in the way you’re used to killing people. You’ll need to be a bit more clever about it. And I’ve got just the plan.”

He clapped his hands together, a manic look in his eyes. “Grab that backpack there.”

Geoff looked to the corner to see a blue backpack lying upon piles and piles of paperwork. He grabbed it, shaking it lightly.

“What’s this?”

“I’ll explain on the way, but for now, take the bag and get yourself to the Suburban store in Vinewood.” Gus turned back towards his computer.

“Uhh, okay?” Geoff slung the pack over his shoulder. “And what do I do once I’m there?”

“You play dress up Geoffrey! Get yourself some clothes that’ll make you look like one of those young tech-savvy kids you see loitering around the city with their fancy phones and peach fuzz and stupid fucking “PWNED” shirts or whatever. And call me once you’re set and I’ll direct you from there. Now kindly fuck off so I can work, please?”

 

* * *

 

Nothing could make Geoff feel more like a Sad Old Fuck, than he did right then, staring at himself in the dressing room mirror of Suburban, wearing cargo shorts, a slightly too-tight t-shirt with a graphic of a computer mouse splashed across the front, and a hideous, bright green vest.

“Good enough,” he said. He went to pay for his new threads, letting the clerk scan the tags before ripping them off. Once outside he pulled up Gus’s number on his phone and dialed.

“So,” Gus said upon picking up. “How do you look?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic. I wanna shove myself into a locker. Are we ready to do this shit?”

“Absolutely. Now you’re gonna head on over to the Lifeinvader building. We’re after a prototype that’s being kept some where in the offices. In your bag is a little “device” I put together that you’re gonna _discreetly_ hook up to the prototype once you find it.”

“And I’m just supposed to stroll through the front door? I don’t have - I dunno, a badge, a key card, an I.D.?”

“Hey, this is a company run entirely by kids with their heads so far up their asses they can chew their food twice. Just hang out by the front and slip in when someone comes out. They’re not gonna give a fuck about one more schmuck wandering around, trust me.” Gus _sounded_ confident enough, but then again, he wasn’t the one putting his ass on the line.

“If you fucking say so,” Geoff replied.

The Lifeinvader building was hard to miss – a chunky mirrored monolith with an enormous red “L” block on the roof. Geoff pulled into the drive, slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way up the front steps. He leaned up against the wall outside the front door and dug out his phone, pretending to check his messages while he waited.

A few minutes later, the front door slid open. Someone stepped outside. He was young man with medium brown skin, dark hair and black-framed glasses. Under his hoodie Geoff could see he was wearing a lanyard with an I.D. around his neck. Definitely an employee then.

“Sup,” the guy nodded at him before slumping against the wall himself, immediately pulling out his phone to play with.

“Hey,” said Geoff back. “Smoke?”

He had his lighter and cigarettes with him. Smoking seemed to be easy way to bond with strangers without arising suspicion.

“Not unless you’re smoking dat herb,” he deadpanned.

Geoff had no clue if he was joking or not, but he couldn’t help but chuckle anyway. “Uhh… sorry, just good ole’ fashion nicotine and lung cancer.”

“I’m good.” He didn’t once look up from his phone.

He needed something else then. He noticed the dude’s mussed up hair and five-o-clock shadow. It could have just been a style preference, but the guy definitely looked exhausted, his eyes were distinctly shadowed.

“Can’t wait for this whole fucking thing to be over,” Geoff said. “I need to get myself some fucking sleep.”

The guy nodded in sympathy. “Tell me about it dude. I’ve been burning the midnight oil everyday since I started here. I can’t remember what a bed feels like I’ve crashed on the shitty beanbags in the lounge so many times.”

“Fucking beanbags,” Geoff scoffed. It was working!

“I know right? Welcome to kindergarten. Where’s my milk and cookies?”

Geoff couldn’t help but laugh. The dude was funny in the most dry and sarcastic way ever. The guy looked up at him for the first time.

“Uhh, you do work here right?” he asked.

Geoff tried to make his voice sound as casual as possible. “Yeah, dude! I’m still pretty new, but I’ve seen you around!”

He blinked and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. “Yeah, sorry man, I’m pretty fucking sleep-deprived and you don’t have your I.D. on you.” He gestured to Geoff’s chest.

“Ahh, shit, I must have left it on my desk. Think you can let me in?” _Please work, please work, please work…_

“No worries, dude.” He glanced at his phone again. “Better get back to it.”

Geoff nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

He followed the guy to the door. He slid his I.D. through the card reader and opened the door for Geoff as well.

“See ya later… shit, I don’t know your name.”

Geoff supposed he should have just given a fake name, but he didn’t have time to think and just blurted out his own.

“Geoff? I’m Ray. I’ll see you around then!” He gave a little half-wave and disappeared down a long hallway.

Figuring the offices were somewhere upstairs, Geoff made the climb to the next floor. Ray was right; this place was like a kindergarten for college kids. Geoff passed the aforementioned beanbag chairs upon reaching the highest floor and giggled slightly.

The employees were definitely buzzing about the upcoming Keynote. Some were excited, others frustrated, most seemed as exhausted and overworked as Ray. Geoff listened to their gossip and complaints intently. Meandering around, he eventually heard the words he had been listening for.

The Prototype. It was in the demo room and someone was coming to pick it up to bring it to the Keynote in a few minutes. Which meant he had to work fast. He glanced around the offices, scanning for the demo room.

_There._

He made his way past the gaggle of rowdy twenty-somethings dicking around at their desks to find a door that led into a small room. He noticed the metal briefcase sitting on the table. He popped it open, revealing a phone that looked like every other damn phone that Lifeinvader had released. Geoff was certain that this was it, but he still snapped a picture of it anyway and texted it to Gus.

Gus texted back straightaway with a confirmation that it was indeed the prototype and simple instructions on how to attach the device he had inside the backpack. Geoff removed the chip from the prototype phone and inserted the one Gus had given him before carefully slipping the phone back into its briefcase.

Easy as dicks.

Exiting the building was even simpler than entering it. The lady at the front desk let him out without batting an eye. He couldn’t help but think one of the most up-and-coming tech companies in the world ought to have better security. But at least it was all working out in his favor.

Once back in his car and on the road, he gave Gus a ring.

“Part one done,” Gus said. “Now to part two. Get home to your TV and tune into the Keynote, it’ll be airing in less than half an hour. Then all you have to do is wait for them to bring out the prototype. Give our dear CEO friend a call and that’s that.”

“That’s that?”

He could practically hear Gus smiling on the other end. “Absolutely. Now get your ass in gear and call me once you’ve done the deed. Than we can start getting your shit in order.”

 

* * *

 

Once home, he noticed his wife’s car parked in the driveway. She had been staying in a hotel for the last two nights since the “incident” and had barely spoken more than two words to Geoff after packing up her clothes and leaving.

Geoff had no intention of telling her what had happened, and after he and Gavin had spent twenty minutes scrubbing bloodstains out of the driveway, he had no intention of ever thinking about what had happened ever again either.

He knew they would have to have the “talk” soon enough. Thinking on it, it had been a long time coming. They had been drifting apart for years; the only thing tying them together still was stubbornness, pride and a whole lotta history.

It wasn’t enough.

She was inside, sitting on the couch. Staring at the TV. Waiting.

“Geoff,” she said, hearing the front door open. “We need to talk.”

He sighed, kicking his shoes off and throwing his bag unto the floor.

“I know, and we will… but now is not a good time.”

She scoffed. “Why?”

“I… got a show I need to watch.” _Not good._

“A show? Seriously? A TV show is so important that you can’t sit down for a few minutes and talk with me? After everything that happened?”

He moved to sit down on the couch. He took her hands in his. “Babe, we will talk, in like, 15 minutes we can talk… as long as you want. But right now, I really, really, need to watch the fucking TV. Please.”

She wrenched her hands away from his. “What’s your problem?! I came here to apologize, to try and fix this! And its like you don’t even fucking care!”

“I… I fucking care! I promise you I care, I just –” he stopped, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was time. The Keynote had already started. _Fuck._

Geoff did the only thing he could do – he snatched the remote control off of the coffee table and turned on the TV, hastily flipping to the right channel. The CEO of Lifeinvader was on the screen, strutting about the stage and waving at the audience. It wouldn’t be long before he took to the podium and brought out the prototype.

“I can’t fucking believe you right now!” His wife shot up off of the couch, her face red.

Geoff was horrified to see that there were tears in her eyes.

“What did you do to him, you bastard?” she whispered. “I’ve been calling him and texting him, and he just doesn’t answer. You did something horrible. God – just like when were young and stupid, back in…” she trailed off, glaring at him with such venom that Geoff felt himself shrink back. He could only watch, silently, heart racing.

“I made a mistake, going with you all those years ago. I’d have been happier, poor and alone in Texas than I am right now, rich and with you in this big fucking house in Los Santos, I know it. And you don’t really care do you? You can’t bring yourself to, not anymore, cause there’s nothing left.” She gestured at the space between them.

And she was right. It was _empty, empty, empty_. No amount of apologies or explanations could bridge that gap.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It doesn’t matter. I was an idiot for thinking I could make this work for so long. So I’m doing the right fucking thing, _finally_. I’m going, Geoff. Enjoy your fucking television show.”

She scooped up her purse from the floor and took off.

Numbly, Geoff turned the volume up on the TV. Watched as someone brought the prototype out, the CEO presenting it to a screaming crowd. Geoff took his own phone in his hands and dialed the number for the prototype.

The Lifeinvader CEO and founder brought the phone slowly to his ear and asked, “Hello?”

And then there was blood and the sound of an explosion. Red mist shielded the worst of the carnage from sight, but it was still one of the grisliest things Geoff had ever witnessed. People screamed. Employees and assistants scrambled to action, frantic and waving, until the camera itself cut off, showing a blue “Signal Lost” screen.

“Holy fuck,” Geoff rasped. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat. He let his head sink into his hands, trying to find his breath. He hadn’t had to kill anyone in almost ten years, and now over the course of a few short days, he had ended two lives, one at the end of gun, the other with nothing more than a phone call.

He needed to not be here right now.

He also needed a strong drink. Several strong drinks.

Most importantly, he needed to talk to Gus.

 

* * *

 

“Goddamnit Geoff, of all the names in LS you just had to piss off the biggest and baddest one around. Fucking Dragovic. You know they don’t just call him “The Dragon” cause of his name dude. Guys a fucking monster, even if only half the rumors about him are true. You _really_ fucked yourself.”

Geoff sighed. “I know, I _know_. I think in this last week I have been fucked in every possible way a person can be fucked. The only kind of fucking I haven’t done is the good kind of fucking. So yeah, I guess you could say that, asshole.”

Gus had invited Geoff over to the place he owned in La Mesa, a big red brick Darnell Bros. garment factory from the 1960’s. The only instructions Gus had given Geoff were to wear a nice suit, comb his hair and shave the scruff off his face. Geoff had done just that, and strangely, just looking put together seemed to make his head feel a little less scrambled.

Gus had worked out most of what Geoff had been up to over the last few days on his own, but he still wanted the play by play from Geoff. After explaining everything in excruciating detail and receiving the ass reaming of a lifetime for his laundry list of fuckups, Gus had agreed to do what he could to get Geoff out of his mess.

“You’re gonna need a decent score, but nothing too high profile. I’m thinking a bank way out in the boonies, or you could do a store in town.” Gus was pacing the back office of the factory. Geoff could practically see the gears turning in his head. “Preference?”

“Man, I guess a fucking store would be an easier bet. I’ve been out of the game long enough I’m not sure I should just jump straight in to bank robbing again. But I owe Dragovic a shit-ton of cash dude. If we’re doing a store, we need something _good_.”

“So a store with a big take? Then gems are the way to go. I know just the place.”

“Lets get this show on the road then, I’ll drive us there,” Geoff said, impatient.

“Before we do that, I should ask – do you have a crew in mind? Cause this is a job that’ll take more than just you and you’re bad intentions, man.”

“No I don’t have a fucking crew! I’ve been out of the game for ten goddamn years, Gus! The closest thing I have to a crew is the pool boy, the maid and the guy who was fucking my wife! Oh god, do you think she banged them too? I mean, the pool boy wasn’t bad looking, but the maid is like 60…”

“Geoff!” Gus chastised him. “Focus!”

“Look, there’s really just me and the kid, the one I told you about – Gavin.”

Gus sighed. “I looked him up and there’s pretty much zip, nada, zilch about him online. He a hacker?”

Geoff shrugged. “Dunno, he’s handy with a computer, but most kids are these days. Coulda paid for someone to erase him from the internet I guess. From what I gather he seemed to have fucked off right out of England in a hurry. Don’t know why though.”

“You trust him?”

“I trust him enough. We owe each other, at least. So I want him on this. How many people am I gonna need you think?”

“Five, six maybe, depending on skill level.”

“Come one, I’ve done bigger jobs than this with a smaller crew,” Geoff scoffed.

“Job like this, you can’t afford to take risks. If you don’t pay Dragovic, he takes it out on your family, on the kid, on his family. A bigger crew insures a safer heisting experience for all.”

Geoff nodded, somewhat resigned. “Yeah, I s’pose. So you know people right? You’ve got connections in the “criminal underworld” and all that?”

“Yeah, but everyone I fucking know is well outside your price range, Geoff. This town is crawling with the criminally minded, so you gotta be good to get noticed. I don’t pay attention to anyone who isn’t at least somewhat “on the radar” so to speak. So for your purposes, look for anyone young, desperate and stupid enough to want to fall in with a guy who can’t pay for shit.”

“Gee Gus, you really know how to make a guy feel confident and ready to take on the world, thanks,” Geoff muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I gotta track down these fools myself then?”

“Keep your ears to the ground and I’ll do the same. See if your little sidekick knows anyone too. In the meantime, you and me will canvas our jewelry store; get a feel for a plan. Sound good?”

“Sounds better than nothing.”

 

* * *

 

Once in the car and on the road to the jewelry store, Geoff felt he had no choice but to mention it.

“Hey man, that thing, with the phone… bomb or whatever? That was pretty fucking brutal. Not your style. Kinda the opposite of your style, in fact.”

Gus shrugged, staring out the window. “It was a quick death, not clean, but painless. Most don’t get that luxury. Guy was a grade A fuckbag, am I supposed to cry about it? Besides, what do you know about my “style”? You haven’t known anything about me for ten years.”

“Jesus, dude, chill. I just mean… I dunno what I fucking mean. Used to be I only ever killed people in self-defense, you know? Me or them. But killing like this feels fucking different. Feels pretty fucking shitty.”

“Take a right up here.” Gus turned to look at him. “You know, that’s why whatever crew you had back in the day looked at you like the sun was shining out your ass. You gave a fuck. You didn’t take life and death lightly. Most people in the game get jaded as fuck, nothing matters to them anymore. You never got that way, for some reason. Their lives were important to you. Up until the day you threw them to the fucking wolves for a piece of ass and a fancy mansion in the hills.”

There it was. Gus may not have felt betrayed personally by Geoff. But he certainly felt betrayed on behalf of the others. It made sense; they had all been close, like a weird, dysfunctional and felonious family. He was right. Geoff _had_ thrown them to the wolves.

But there was nothing he could fucking do to fix it. To his knowledge almost everyone involved in that last heist had gotten got in someway. Taken away in cuffs, or on stretchers or even in body bags. The ones who had escaped were long in the wind, the rest, in prison or dead in the ground. Like he was supposed to be. No one was left to make it up to except Gus.

“We’re here.” Gus’s voice startled him from his reverie. It was too late to say anything. He didn’t think Gus even wanted him to. He had just wanted to unload the shit that had probably been piling up in his thoughts for years.

“I-” he started, just as his phone started to ring.

He didn’t recognize the number that popped up. It might have been another of Dragovic’s men, calling to check in on his progress.

“Sorry, I gotta take this,” he said, just as Gus’s own phone began to ring as well.

“No problem,” said Gus, pulling an old style flip phone from his pocket, most likely a cheap burner. “We’ll reconvene in a few minutes.”

Geoff stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk to give Gus his privacy and answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Uhh, is this Geoff Ramsey?” came a low voice from the other end.

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“I don’t know if you remember me, we met at Lifeinvader the other day. I’m Ray. Y’know, dark hair, glasses, looks like an asshole?”

Geoff snorted. “Yeah I fucking remember. How’d you get this number?”

“I’m a hacker man, I know these things. I also know you’re the guy who made my boss’s head go boom on TV. Cool move by the way, guy was a dick.”

“I have not the faintest fucking idea what you’re talking about.” Geoff intoned, trying to keep his voice casual. Just what he needed, another fucker meddling in his business.

“Hey man, you do you, I do me, we all do each other, its cool. I really don’t care about the whole “murder” thing. The whole “not having a job thing” is what really sucks. Since everyone and their grandma is a fucking hitman in this city, I figured you’d be a good place to start. Guys like you need guys like me to dig up info on your targets or whatever, right? So think of me tracking you down as my resume.”

“I’m not a fucking hitman kid. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Sure, but you’re _something_ right? Look I don’t wanna be a bitch about it, but I do know the name of the guy who just murdered a celebrity on live TV. I could take that shit anywhere.”

“And I know the name of the guy who let the alleged murderer into the office where the alleged murder weapon was being kept,” Geoff countered.

“Touché, man, but see? We know each other’s secrets. We _keep_ each other’s secrets. And then we help each other out. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.”

“How do I know you won’t talk? You got more on me than I got on you.”

“Dude, I’m Puerto Rican. I don’t snitch. Plus I don’t wanna disappoint my mother. Look, all I’m asking, next time you need a little info - you throw me a bone. And some cash. Simple.” Ray was nothing if not bizarrely convincing.

“Alright. I’ve got something coming up I might need a man of your talents for. You keep your fucking mouth shut and lay low, and I’ll let you know soon okay?”

“Cool. Thank you for your consideration and I look forward to hearing from you soon. That’s what you say at the end of a job interview right?”

Geoff laughed. “I wouldn’t know. I’m hanging up now.”

“Byeeeee,” he heard the voice cry faintly from the other end before hanging up.

Well. That worked out. Hopefully.

Figuring Gus was done with his own call, he popped back into the car.

“I think I mighta just found someone for the crew,” Geoff said, just as Gus blurted, “I got a guy for the job, but he’s in a bit of a pickle right now.”

“Woah, seriously?” Geoff exclaimed. “Okay, you go first, tell me about the guy.”

Gus breathed out heavily. “He just called me to ask me to help him out of a sticky situation.”

“What kind of situation?”

“A “ _wanted by the police for questioning_ ” kind of situation? He said he was holed up in a motel for now.”

“Great,” Geoff sighed. Was nothing ever simple?

“Don’t get discouraged, there hasn’t been an official warrant or anything yet. Look, his name is Michael Jones he’s a real up in comer in the game, a lotta eyes on him. His day job is an electrician, but he also works these insurance fraud scams, burns down shit for people so they can collect the money on it. He’s usually pretty careful, but I dunno, he fucked up on his last job. He never leaves behind evidence at the places he torches, but I guess this time someone who knew him spotted him at the scene and gave his name to the police. He’s not an official suspect, but he will be once they find his car, which apparently has a trunkful of “very illegal shit” as he put it.” Gus had pulled out another phone while he was talking, this one a high tech smart phone. He was scrolling away, already plotting and planning.

“So we get to the car before the police do, and then destroy the evidence. What about the witness?”

Gus nodded. “Exactly. We’ll have to get to her too, make her… reconsider what she saw.”

“Jeeesus Christ. Okay,” Geoff huffed. “Where’s his car then?”

“Michael said he called to have to it towed to someplace far enough from the crime scene that the police wouldn’t think to check there right away. But we need to get to it quick.”

“Okay, so, rain check on the jewelry store stakeout?”

Gus turned to stare at him, his forehead knotted. “I was thinking…”

“Oh, no,” Geoff groaned.

“Your guy, Gavin. Maybe he could handle this? I can walk him through the steps while you do your thing in the building.”

Geoff bit his lip. “I dunno...”

“Hey, you said you trusted him! So now’s his chance to prove it! He can pick Michael up, sneak him in to get his car and together they can track down that witness. If she recognized Michael, than I’m sure he can help Gavin find her. Seriously Geoff, this kid is good, but he doesn’t have a lot of friends in this town. No one is gonna be willing to stick their necks out for him just yet, no one but us. We move in on this, we’ll have his loyalty, and I don’t think he’ll mind being paid in pennies. We don’t wanna waste time here.”

Geoff rubbed his eyes, exhaling. Things were moving so quickly it was hard to keep up with. “I guess… fuck it. I’ll give Gavin a call.”

 

* * *

 

“Christ Geoff, have you seen what’s going on in the news? Some tosser got his head blown in on live TV! Did you see it? Blood everywhere, effing rinsed!” Gavin began prattling away as soon as he picked up the phone.

“Yeah Gav I saw! Listen! Shut up for a minute, I got a job for you,” Geoff said, slightly exasperated.

“Oooh, a job? What’s it then?”

“I’ve got a score for us, and I’m working on that right now, but we also need a crew. Gus says this guy – Michael, would be perfect for the job - that’s where you come in. I want you to pick him up for me, and then you’re gonna go pick up his car.”

“Simple enough,” replied Gavin.

“Yeah, real simple, anyway, my buddy Gus is gonna give you a call with the details, so keep your phone handy. Get in touch with him if you run into trouble, I’ll be busy canvassing.”

“No problem.”

“One more thing,” added Geoff. “According to Gus, this guy is a bit of a hothead, so don’t do anything to piss him off, we need him.”

“Sure thing, I’ll be nice as knobs. Anything else?”

“No, that’s it… well… fuck. You, you got this right?” Geoff asked, hesitance in his voice. “I mean - is this something you can handle?”

Gavin chuckled. Geoff wasn’t sure if he found that reassuring or not. “Have a little faith Geoff! I’ve got it under control! Over and out!”

“Alright buddy,” Geoff sighed. “Over and out.”

   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting!
> 
> Chapter Title Song:  
> What's Next? by OFF! (GTA 5)


	3. Servin' 'Em Heat

**The Devils You Know**  

Part One

A Hard Knock Life 

Chapter Three

Servin’ ‘Em Heat

  

Michael Jones had known Gavin Free all of 15 minutes, and he was already certain that the guy was going to be the death of him.

For starters, he drove like he was in a fucking video game. He rounded corners like he was trying to mow down every possible pedestrian, he seemed to think yellow lights meant, “go faster” and braked like it was his life’s goal to snap his own neck with whiplash.

“Fuuuck!” Michael screamed from the passenger seat as Gavin hit a curb too fast, making the car jump slightly into the air and then go screeching down the road. “It’s bad enough Gus sends some skinny British fuck to pick me up in his ugly purple piece of shit car, but as it turns out, guys a fucking moron! It’s not a goddamn race! We’re trying to _avoid_ police attention here, you fuck!”

“I can’t _not_ go fast,” said Gavin with the sort of cheery nonchalance that made Michael want to wring his scrawny little neck.

“WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?!”

“I mean, the point of driving is to get from point A to point B quickly innit? Otherwise I’d just walk.”

“Jesus Christ,” Michael growled, rubbing his forehead. “Driving is automatically fucking faster than walking! You don’t have to speed down the road like a goddamn maniac to get from point A to point B faster than walking, idiot! YOU’RE IN A CAR, GUESS WHAT, YOUR GOING TO GET ANYWHERE FASTER THAN WALKING. THAT’S JUST COMMON-FUCKING-SENSE!”

Michael’s face had gone red enough to almost match the color of his auburn hair. Gavin began to laugh rather helplessly, slightly from fear, mostly from surprise at the amount of sheer, unadulterated hateful fury the other man seemed capable of mustering a the drop of a hat.

Michael took a few deep breaths that seemed to calm him down – slightly. “Just get us there in one fucking piece, asshole.”

Gavin nodded, trying to stifle the nervous giggle that was rising in his throat. After that, he drove a bit more cautiously, at least.

“So, where next?” Gavin asked.

LS Customs, near the airport, straight ahead,” Michael instructed coolly, as if he had not been red-faced and screaming only moments before. “Okay, so I got a guy I know – a mechanic - to tow my ride there. But, the dude’s just a civilian ya know? He doesn’t know about all the crime shit and he definitely doesn’t know about the fucking arsenal I got in my trunk. He’s not the snooping type, but if he’s acting fishy we make sure he don’t talk. So follow my lead and be cool.”

“Cool. As. A Cucumber. Got it.” Gavin winked and did a few finger-guns in his face for good measure.

“Ugh,” Michael groaned. This guy was too fucking much.

A few minutes later they followed the glowing neon sign advertising the Los Santos Customs and pulled into the lot. Michael hopped out first.

“Matt said he had the car out back. Go fucking look for it. I’ll see if anyone’s around.” Michael began heading towards the front office of the building.

Gavin nodded and jogged off.

Michael tried knocking on the front door. No answer. There were a few cars parked in the lot, but no people around. During business hours you could usually see the garage open, and Matt or one of the other employees tinkering away on someone’s ride. Something was definitely up.

Just as Michael was thinking he ought to start pounding on the door or shouting for someone, Gavin showed up. He came slinking around the corner of the building, half-crouched, eyes wide and nervous.

“Michael,” he hissed. “Michael we got problems!”

Fuck me,” Michael muttered. He grabbed Gavin by the collar and pulled him behind a truck parked near the front. “What is it?”

“There’s dudes with guns back there! All dressed in green. They’ve got some people hostage or something! I heard them asking where someone was, think they’re talking about you?”

“Shit,” Michael swore, running a hand through his hair. “Not good, not fucking good man.”

“They are looking for you, aren’t they? That looked like gang stuff, Michael!” Gavin whispered in a panic.

“If they’re wearing green then they gotta be LS².”

Gavin stared at him blankly. Michael wasn’t surprised he hadn’t heard of them, the gang handled small time shit mostly and still had a relatively limited territory, though he had heard they were trying to expand.

They’re stupid French fucks, or at least their boss is. _The Los Santos Les Sauvages._ Everyone who isn’t an asshole just calls them LS² or the Savages. I did a job for their head honcho a while back. They got a little greedy, wanted me to sign on with them permanently. I kept turning them down. No idea how they figured out I was gonna be here. Unless you fucking ratted me out.” He whipped his head to glare down at Gavin.

“I didn’t! I’ve known about this job for like… an hour! How would I have-”

“Alright, alright,” Michael hissed, cutting him off. “Maybe Matt or someone who works here made a deal with them, or maybe they’ve been following me, who fucking knows, point is, we got a problem. I need to get my fucking car out of here, and make sure they don’t get me in the process. How many were back there?”

“Like, six guys in green, at least. But Michael, shouldn’t we like, sod off while we can, come back with help? Geoff and Gus – ”

“We can’t fucking do that Gavin! They got my car back there! Matt tells them which one it is, they’ll hold my fucking car hostage and tell me I gotta work for them or they’ll turn me in to the fucking police or something. We _have_ to get it now. Take them by surprise. You got a gun on you?”

Gavin nodded. “Yeah, but just the one, what about you?”

“All my stuff is in that fucking car. If we can get to it, I got grenades and sticky bombs for _days;_ we can blow those suckers to the goddamn moon.”

“Right. So, I’ll get behind cover over there. There’s a fence and a dumpster and a big old bus I can hide behind.” Gavin pointed to the other end of the lot. “And I’ll distract ‘em, take a couple shots, keep ‘em busy. Then you can sneak around the other way to your car. It was the Gauntlet right? Blue and red?”

“Yeah…?” Michael was surprised at the initiative Gavin was taking. He had pegged him for little more than an affable idiot.

“Good, you should be well hidden once you get back there. Get to your stuff quickly and give ‘em hell. How’s that?”

“I guess, but your job is way more dangerous dude. You’re not wearing body armor or anything; you could get shot to shit. Maybe we should trade…”

“Nah,” Gavin waved him off. “I dunno how to use those explodey things anyway, ‘sides, I’m quick, I can keep ‘em on their toes.”

“Alright man. Guess we’re doing this.”

“Oh, wait, almost forgot!” Gavin exclaimed. He pulled something out from underneath his button up shirt. Michael glimpsed a small knife holster. “Take this, just in case. You any good in a fight?”

Michael scoffed, accepting the knife. “I’m from Jersey, bitch, I’ve been fighting since the day I was born.”

      

* * *

  

“Gavin texted, he’s on his way to the Pink Cage Motel to pick up Michael, said he’ll keep us updated,” Gus said to Geoff as he got back in the car.

They had circled the block surrounding the Vangelico Jewel Store in Rockford Hills several times, noting the placement of outdoor cameras and the pedestrian and vehicle traffic. Gus then had Geoff get out to scope the place again on foot, to try and find anything they missed from the car.

“Sounds good,” said Geoff. “The store across the street has a camera facing Vangelico that we missed. Other than that, I think we got all of them.”

Gus nodded. He had a map of Los Santos unfolded on his lap. Geoff watched as he marked the positions of the cameras in red permanent marker.

“So what’s the next step?”

Gus capped the marker and turned to look at him. “We go inside. Well – _you_ go inside.” He folded the map up and set it down on the dashboard before reaching into the backseat to grab something out of a duffle bag.

“What’s this?” asked Geoff.

“High-tech glasses fitted with tiny, hidden cameras. I ordered them online and they’re fucking expensive so _don’t_ mess around with them. Put them on.”

“And do what?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you? You’re in the suit with the slicked back hair and the fancy sunglasses; you blend in with every other greasy rich fuck that shops there. Hold still a minute.”

Geoff went motionless as Gus pulled something else out a tiny plastic bag. It just looked like a small, circular piece of metal. He carefully removed it from the bag and tried to grab Geoff by the ear.

“Hey what the fuck!” Geoff exclaimed.

“Do it yourself then!” Gus grumbled. He handed Geoff the little piece of metal. “Put this inside your ear, close to the eardrum as you can get it, then secure it with this little magnet.”

He handed Geoff another small piece of metal and Geoff attached them both to his ear.

“Here, you’ll need this to make it work,” Gus said. He slid a thin wire underneath Geoff’s collar and then clipped what looked to be a very tiny microphone to his lapel. Connected to the wire was a black controller, which he gave to Geoff to put in his inside coat pocket.

After smoothing down and tucking away all of the wires, Gus sat back to appreciate his work. “Looks good. The wireless earpiece lets you hear me talking to you from my line. You can talk back to me with the microphone, here. The controller sends signals to the earpiece and its battery operated. It has three settings. Off, Auto On and Manual On. Auto On keeps the line constantly open for communication. Manual On means you have to hit the button to control what the person listening in hears. For now, just leave it on Auto On.”

“Damn,” Geoff whistled, impressed. “This is some high tech spy-movie shit you got here! We could have used cool stuff like this back when I was in the big leagues!”

Gus chuckled. “You were never in the big leagues Geoff. Anyway, head into the building. As subtly as you can manage, try to get shots of the security features, got all that?”

Geoff gave a little mock salute and headed back out again. “Aye aye, Captain!”

“A consummate professional.” Geoff heard Gus mutter through his earpiece.

“I heard that!” he said in mock outrage.

“Good, that means its working. Now shut up and don’t look suspicious.”

Vangelico was a classy place - that was for sure. A doorman graciously welcomed him inside as soon as Geoff approached the front.

“Thank you,” Geoff said in the most pompous voice he could muster.

“Look for cameras, any alarm systems and ventilation shafts. Just touch the button on the side of your glasses to take a picture,” came Gus’s voice.

It didn’t take long to get all the pictures Gus needed. Geoff pretended to browse the diamond necklaces while waiting for further instructions.

“Good, the pictures are coming through. Now just speak to the assistant, see if there is anything else we need to know.”

Geoff approached the counter, smiling confidently and trying to summon the kind of charm he had once exuded so easily in his bank-robbing days.

“Hello miss, you’re looking lovely this evening. I’m shopping for a little gift for the woman in my life,” he chuckled amiably. “Well, one of them.”

“I’m sure we can help you Sir,” the woman responded, warm and obliging. “Tell me about her.”

“Oh you know, she’s a beautiful red-head - a real salt-of-the-earth kinda gal. Stubborn as a mule, but a heart as big as they come. She doesn’t like anything too fancy or expensive, _thank god_ , this ain’t my wife we’re talking about here. She does have “unique” tastes though.”

“She sounds like a lovely woman, I’m sure we can find something to fit her tastes. We have some exceptional pieces here. Our rings start at 8 grand and our pendants start at 12.”

“So are these things built to last or am I just paying for the Vangelico logo here?” Geoff asked. He figured knowing exactly what kind of jewels they were taking wouldn’t hurt.

“We use nothing but the finest, perfect clarity jewels. 18 carat gold. Nine fifty platinum. Nothing but the best.”

“Excellent!” He clapped his hands together, feigning excitement. “I think you just made a sale. I’m gonna think on it some more and get back to you, darling.”

Geoff pretended to browse a bit more before slipping out while the assistant was helping another customer.

Gus’s voice came through the earpiece once more. “Good work Geoff, now head on back. We got one more thing to do before we can set this plan in motion.”

 

* * *

 

Michael crept around the left side of the building, keeping as low and quiet as could. The back lot was filled with all kinds of junk, gutted cars and buses, old shipping containers, dumpsters and rickety construction equipment. There was even a huge crane directly in front of him, blocking his view of the other part of the lot. He spotted his Gauntlet parked in the back. The Savages, clad in green hoodies and t-shirts, were standing just a few feet from it. They were mostly armed with pistols, save for one off to the side who was packing a deadly looking carbine rifle.

He crept closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the hostages Gavin had mentioned. Ducking behind a dumpster near the crane, he peered around the corner and spotted them. There were just two hostages kneeling down, one of them he immediately recognized as Matt, with his overgrown beard and long hair pulled back in a ponytail. The other was undoubtedly Matt’s boss - an older guy with grey hair and a potbelly.

There was no way he was getting anywhere near them or the car without getting riddled with bullets. He waited for Gavin and his distraction.

A few seconds later, he heard the distinctive sounds of gunfire come from the other end of the lot. The six Savages turned to face the clamor of bullets, two of them taking off to investigate. The rest raised their own guns at the source of the noise. Michael decided to take his chance to catch the hostages’ attention and draw them away from the line of fire.

Before he could do anything though, Matt leapt into action. He bounded up at the nearest gunmen, taking advantage of the man’s distraction to land a hefty kick to his back, sending him tumbling to the ground. The Savage with the carbine spun around once she noticed her fallen comrade. Before she could take aim Matt had taken her down too with a fast succession of deadly kicks.

Not one to watch someone kick ass and take names without him, Michael drew his knife and dashed at the next gunmen, who was shooting off rounds with reckless abandon. Luckily his aim was shit, and Michael was able to tackle him to the ground. He drove his knife into the gangster’s neck for a quick kill and snatched the pistol out hands, shoving it into his waistband before diving for the real prize – the carbine.

“Grab a gun!” he shouted, both to Matt who was grappling with a gangster who seemed to have lost his own gun, and to Matt’s boss who was still kneeling on the ground in stunned silence.

“Michael?” Matt exclaimed, finally noticing him.

“Surprise, bitch,” Michael said dully, before coldcocking the guy Matt was fighting.

Realizing two of the gangsters were still in the shoot-out with Gavin, Matt ducked down. He pried a pistol out of a fallen gunman’s hands and scooped another off the pavement. He kept one for himself and handed one to his boss, who held it flat in the palm of his hands, staring numbly ahead.

“Thanks for the assist there dude, oh and by the way, what the hell is going on?” Matt whispered at him, despite keeping cool under pressure, there was panic in his eyes.

Michael growled under his breath. “A whole lotta bullshit is what’s going on, Matt. Long story short, those Savage fucks want my ass, so put a bullet in any motherfucker in green you see, or just use that ninja shit you were doing earlier.”

“My “ninja shit” took out more dudes than you. And its taekwondo, dumbass.”

“Still needed my dumbass to save you though.” Michael grinned wryly.

“I should have told you to fuck off when you called me. Goddamn. You owe me big time for this.”

“Look - I’ll grovel and beg for forgiveness later, right now, lets just focus on not fucking dying. Cover me while I grab some shit from my car.”

“Hope whatever’s in there is worth it,” Matt said grimly.

Michael took his keys from his pocket and popped the trunk.

It was strangely comforting to see his stuff still tucked safely away in the trunk of his car. He grabbed his backpack, but before he could stuff his own gun and sticky bombs inside, Matt nudged him.

“Hey, the shootings stopped over there. And I think I heard a car pull in…” Matt whispered.

“Fuck…” Michael seized his own small SMG and shoved sticky bombs and grenades into his pack. “Maybe one of them called for backup? Or they’re coming to check up on their fucking pals here.”

“What’re you gonna do?” Matt asked.

“I got another guy here with me, he’s probably fucking dead, but if he isn’t, and there are more guys pulling in then…”

“You’ve got go help,” Matt said quietly.

“Yeah.” Michael nodded, seeming to affirm it to himself too. “So stay here, and protect my fucking car!”

He found the other Savages sprawled on the pavement, dead or close to death, bleeding out from gunshot wounds. At least Gavin’s aim wasn’t completely terrible, it seemed.

Finding his way to where he had last seen Gavin, it became apparent the people that had pulled into the lot were not friendlies. He spotted one of the gang’s signature green Tornado, along with a menacing matte black Patriot that looked like it meant fucking business. Gang members were shuffling around the joint, shouting for their fallen friends.

_Fuck._

Michael found Gavin hiding inside the shell of an ancient, rusty bus, clutching his gun to his chest. When he saw Michael, he startled for a moment before breathing out a sigh of relief.

“That was mad! I thought you ate knobs back there! I didn’t know what to do and now I’m all out of bullets – ” Gavin babbled, green eyes wide.

“Chill the fuck out, I’m fine. You’re fine by the looks of it,” he said, glancing up and down at the other man and seeing him free from any obvious bullet holes. “I took out four of the dudes back there. Matt and his boss are okay, and I got my stuff.”

He pulled his bag out in front of him to show Gavin the contents.

“Nice one,” Gavin said appreciatively. “You got enough in there to take the rest of them out?”

Michael nodded. “It’d be easiest if I can get them all grouped together. We gotta be quick about it though. I’m sure plenty of people heard us popping off rounds back there. The police won’t be far behind these assholes and once I start making things go “boom” it’ll be tough to make a discreet exit.”

Gavin furrowed his brow, mulling it over. Then, slowly, a slightly crazed, slightly dazzling grin broke over his face.

“You up for one more mad idea?” He asked.

Michael couldn’t help but smile along with him.

“Fucking always, dude.”

 

* * *

  

“Any word from Gavin?” Geoff asked once back in the car with Gus.

Not yet,” replied Gus. He was busy messing around with his laptop. Geoff saw that he had downloaded the images from the store, blowing them up and scrutinizing them carefully. “He probably took Michael for a burger or something, kid said he’d been surviving off hotel breakfasts and vending machine candy for the last few days.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. So final step?”

Gus nodded. “Final step. Well – sort of final step, there’s still the planning, the setup, and then actually going through with the heist –”

“ _Gus_ ,” Geoff whined. “Just get to the fucking point so I can ditch the monkey suit and drown my sorrows at home in peace.”

“Alright! Drive us around the block, we gotta find a way up to the roof. I wanna get a better look at the ventilation system.”

Geoff put the car into drive and pulled out. “I saw some construction scaffolding and shit around the corner when I was checking for cameras. It looked like it might have gone all the way to the top.”

“Excellent, let’s start there then.”

He brought to the car to the construction area and came to a stop. “Looks like they’re gutting the place. I don’t see anyone around, I’ll head on in.”

“Try to get as high up as you can,” Gus called as Geoff jumped out.

Geoff cautiously entered the building. He glanced around the dark space, seeing nothing but construction equipment and a whole lotta dust he headed for the stairs near the back.

“So Gus,” he said into his microphone. “Didja’ keep up with the old crew at all?”

“Well, after your tragic and unexpected death, there really wasn’t much holding those of us who were still around together. We all kinda went our separate ways, you know.”

“Did you… see _her_ , at all after the uhh, incident?” Geoff’s voice was low and tense.

“You mean your red haired beauty? Your salt-of-the-earth, stubborn-as-a-mule gal?” Gus cooed.

“Aww, come on man, I’m being serious as dicks here, don’t make fun of me!”

“I kept tabs on her, best I could, to make sure she didn’t blame me for what happened, and later to make sure she still thought you were dead.”

“And??” Geoff demanded, impatient. At the top of the stairs he found more scaffolding and a latter leading up to higher floors. He began to climb.

“You know her better than I, my friend. Though, last I heard from her she was still very much in mourning. I don’t think she’s in Texas anymore. She’s probably off the grid, living in some giant fort in the desert she built for herself. I don’t think she’s gonna be a problem for you, if that’s what your worried about.”

Geoff stopped once got outside, moving to stand out in the smoggy Los Santos air. The sun was getting close to dipping below the horizon. It had been one hell of a fucking long day. And there were more still to come.

“I’m not worried,” he said quietly, more to himself than Gus. “If she comes for me, I fucking deserve, I know I do. I just… I hope she’s out there, alive somewhere, getting up to all the crazy shit we used to dream about when we were stupid kids. That’s all.”

“Yeah…” Gus agreed softly, before clearing his throat. “So if you’ve quite finished reminiscing, we’ve got a job to do.”

“Right. Sorry. I’m here on the roof, what’re we looking for?”

“I need to know where the air coming out of those vents in Vangelico originates. There should be a unit above the store.”

“Alright, I see a higher spot up ahead. I’m gonna parkour my way over.” Geoff began clambering over to the next roof.

“If I see a fucking body fall from the sky I’m driving off without you,” Gus deadpanned.

“Cold.” Geoff winced. “Ice cold.”

He found his way to the highest point of the building, climbing up so he could get a better look at everything. “Found the vents, I’m gonna send you some pictures here in a second.”

Geoff used his glasses to snap a couple pictures. Once Gus confirmed the shots were what he was looking for, he made the slow climb back down.

Once in the car again, he leaned back in his seat, breathing heavy. “We done here?”

“For now. I’m going to start piecing together the information back at the garment factory. Drop me off there and you can head home if you want.”

Geoff started the car. “What about Gavin and Michael?”

“They still haven’t gotten back to me.” He watched as Gus checked his watch.

Geoff glanced down at his own, sighing. “They definitely should have by now, right? Should we be calling them?”

“They might have run into trouble, calling them might just make _more_ trouble if they’re trying to lie low.”

Geoff hummed.

“Look, not speaking for Gavin here, but Michael can handle himself. I trust him. So lets head back to the factory. You go home, take a fucking nap, and I will call you if I hear from them within the next hour and call them if I don’t, sound good?”

“I guess. I got too much shit on my plate to be stressing over a couple of dumb kids. Lets get the fuck out of here.” He took off down the street.

 

* * *

  

Michael Jones liked to take pleasures in the small things in life - a hot shower on a chilly winter morning, curling up on the couch to watch Netflix after a long day, a perfectly grilled steak with just the right amount of seasoning, and the scintillatingly stunning sight of a dozen perfectly timed sticky bombs blowing a bunch of 2-bit gangsters to Timbuktu.

The plan was Gavin’s of course, but the flawless execution, that was _all_ him.

It had gone a little something like this…

“You’re insane.” Matt intoned, handing Michael another sticky bomb from where he sat, kneeling by the side of a Bobcat Xl he had been tinkering with. They had snuck inside the garage while Gavin played the distraction once again outside. The sounds of Gavin exchanging bullets with the gangsters could be heard from outside.

Michael cackled from beneath the truck, where he was attaching copious amount of sticky bombs to the undercarriage. “Hey! It was Gavin’s idea!”

“Then you’re both insane,” Matt muttered. He handed him another bomb after Michael waggled his grease-blackened fingers at him.

“That the last one?” Michael asked.

“Yup,” Matt said. “You know what you’re doing with these things?”

“Fuck yeah I do,” Michael said confidently. Truthfully, a hell of a lot could go wrong when you messed around with explosives, even if you were a pro, but he wasn’t about to tell Matt that. “Car’s ready?”

“Car’s in drive, bricks on the brakes, tell me when you want me to move it.”

Michael nodded. He grabbed his homemade remote detonator in one hand and his cell in the other, firing off a quick, one word text to Gavin.

_Done._

He listened for the sound of gunfire to stop and waited a few extras seconds for Gavin to get well clear of the blast zone.

Then, he threw open the front door and screamed.

“HEY BITCHES! YOU WANT ME? COME AND GET ME. I’M OUT IN FRONT OF THE GARAGE! LETS FUCKING FIGHT YOU STUPID, UGLY, USELESS FUCKS!”

Michael ducked back inside just as the Savages came tearing back towards the front of the building, screaming all sorts of colorful insults.

“You’re a dead Man, Jones!”

“We know you’re here!”

“Come out and fight like a man, pussy!”

Michael heard one of them shout close to the front door, “Where the fuck is he?”

“I’m right here, bitch.” He opened the garage. The savages were already unloading their bullets into the door. Michael scrambled to get out of range.

“NOW!” he called back to Matt, who used his hands to push down the brake pedal and remove the brick. He then slammed it onto the gas pedal and flung himself back into the corner of the garage.

The truck shot forward, towards the group of angry Savages. As soon as it cleared the garage and barreled into the first guy, Michael pressed down on the remote detonator.

The cacophony of screams and explosions and encroaching police sirens was music to his ears.

“Beautiful,” he said appreciably, staring at the fiery carnage. Black smoke plumed into the sky, set wonderfully aglow by the light of the fire. “Just fucking beautiful.”

“Fuck,” Matt whispered, scooping himself up off the ground. He looked more shaken than Michael had ever seen him, his hair loose and wild, his clothing rumpled and blood-splattered.

“Is it over?” A voice piped from the office. Michael glimpsed Matt’s boss, cowering slightly behind the filing cabinets.

“Yeah, guess it is,” Michael replied, a little sadly. “Keys?”

Matt stared numbly at him a moment, struck by his casualty. Michael clearly lived in a world where ending the day with fire and bloodshed was the norm. It was more than a little alarming. He grabbed the spare keys to Michael’s Gauntlet off the hook and tossed them.

Michael caught the keys and sighed. “Police will be here soon, I better grab Gavin and fuck off. You know what to say right?”

“It was all gang bullshit. Squabbling over territory, or some nonsense. The police barely investigate that shit anymore. We never saw you or your friend. Just get your car and get out of here. And please,” Matt said dourly, approaching Michael and placing his hands on his shoulders. “Don’t ever call me again.”

 

* * *

 

The sun was setting over Los Santos, lighting the city ablaze with red and gold. Michael and Gavin were sitting atop Gavin’s purple Blista in the Burger Shot parking lot, enjoying a couple cheeseburgers and shakes.

They had left Michael’s car and the rest of his stuff with a contact of Gus’s, a cleaner they had met in secret near the canals. Michael had been reluctant to hand his “baby” off but had eventually relented, realizing it was his only choice.

Gavin finally checked in with a mostly unconcerned Gus and a rather anxious Geoff and assured them that they still had all their limbs, after making promises to fill them in on their escapades later, Michael suggested they grab something to eat.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Gavin said after polishing off his burger.

Michael scoffed. “You’re not gonna freak out now are you? Cause I ain’t dealing with that shit.”

“No, I mean I can’t believe we just got away with all that. Now we’re sitting here, having a meal and a chat like it was nothing. Any normal person would be shitting themselves right now. Has to say something about our mental states that were just like ehhh, whatever, lets grab burgers, yeah?”

“Say it a little louder why don’t you,” Michael growled. “I deal with shit like this all the time in my job. You get used to it.”

Still, he understood what Gavin meant. He perhaps should have been more concerned with the ease in which he accepted such death and destruction, but he felt like he only had so much room in his heart to give a fuck, and he wasn’t about to waste whatever space he had left on lowlife gangsters who had it out for him anyway.

Gavin turned to look at him, watching him carefully. “It’s like I can just turn it off, being able to care, or being scared. That’s how I was able to do all that. Then I just – ” he snapped his fingers “ – turn everything back on when I need it. Is that completely mental?”

 _It wasn’t._ “Yeah, that’s mental, dude. You’re fucking crazy.” He spun his finger in circles around his head.

Gavin sulked. “Dude, I was trying to have a moment! You ruined it!”

“I’m gonna strangle you in a moment if you don’t shut up, asshole. Now get up so we can finish this.”

“The witness?” Gavin asked.

“Yeah, the bitch who ratted me out.” Michael shook his head angrily. “Can’t believe it.”

“Gus said she knew you, so do you know who she is?” Gavin asked, tossing his trash in the bin in front of the Burger Shot.

Michael nodded, ducking into the passenger seat. “Yeah. At least I think so. The day before I was doing the job, I was just sort of scoping the place out a bit, y’know, see what kinda building I was working with, how old it was, basic stuff. I’m walking around and this like, middle-aged housewife looking lady walking her dog comes up talking like she’s know me. I’m like, “whose this bitch?” but I don’t say that shit, cause I’m polite. Turns out I did a job – like a legit electric work job on her apartment a few months back and she remembered me for some reason. She would _not_ shut the fuck up dude, let me tell you, and then she tried to get me to come inside for some fucking lemonade or some shit, it was a whole thing! It _had_ to be her.”

Gavin couldn’t help but laugh. Michael was strangely talkative when in the right mood, it seemed. “Aww, she had a bit of a crush on you, Mikey Michael! She thought you were cuuute.”

Michael snorted. “Pssht…What? No. She did not. Besides, I am _not_ cute.”

Gavin giggled gleefully. “Oh, you absolutely are. She thought you were cute and she wanted to take you back to her flat and ravish you senseless!”

“GAVIN SHUT THE FUCK UP. STOP SAYING THAT!”

“Cute little Mikey Michael, with his cute little curls and his cute little freckles, makes all the naughty housewives go – ” he let out a startled squawk as Michael swung at him.

“You’re dead bitch!” Michael cried, slapping him.

Gavin couldn’t help but note the slight amusement in the other man’s voice. He shoved Michael away, laughing. After a moment Michael began to laugh too.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he said, smirking.

Gavin nodded solemnly. “I can accept that. Where to?”

“Her apartment was over by the cemetery, I think I’ll remember which one once we get there.”

“And what exactly are we gonna do to her if we find her?”

“We beat her down until she promises not to talk,” Michael said darkly.

“What!” Gavin wailed, staring at him in utter disbelief.

Michael couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Jesus Christ! The look on your face! God I know you think I’m a maniac, but I don’t go around beating up old ladies for fun you know! We’re just gonna spook her a bit. I’ve got the plan this time, so just follow my lead.”

Once they found the apartments, Michael snuck them in and led them up to the second floor while a tenant stepped out to have a smoke.

“You sure it’s this one?” Gavin asked in a whisper once they had stopped at a door.

Yeah, It was a corner apartment and I remember being able to see the cemetery from the window, had to be this one.”

“At least security is shite around here. Don’t see no cameras.”

Michael glanced around. “All in our favor then.” He turned to look at Gavin. “We go in quiet, got your piece ready?”

Gavin nodded.

“Good. Don’t let her scream. I’ll do the talking.” Slowly, he brought his fist up to the door and knocked.

The woman who answered was just about the least intimidating person in the world. She was a tiny blonde lady in a bathrobe and slippers. She opened the door a crack, and in a small voice said, “Is my TV too loud again Glen? I’ll turn it –”

Michael shoved his way in. Gavin rounded on her, wrapping a hand around her mouth, feeling distinctly dirty.

Gun pointed at her head, Michael whispered, “Sit down on the couch, hands in the air. You scream and you’re dead, got it?”

Eyes large and teary, she nodded. Gavin removed his hand from her mouth, wiping it on his jeans.

“You know who I am?” Michael asked.

She nodded.

“Good. That shit you said to the cops? Not cool, lady. Really caused me a lot of trouble. I’m gonna need you to fix it for me. Where do you keep your medications?”

“Th-there’s a cupboard in the bathroom, in a Tupperware container on the t-top shelf,” she replied, voice soft and shaky.

“Grab it for me.” Michael nodded his head towards Gavin.

Gavin returned with the container a moment later.

“Look for sleeping pills, pain meds, antidepressants, that sort of thing.”

The woman’s eyes widened further. She huffed in a trembling breath, clearly under the impression that they were about to drug her with her own medicine.

“Got some Ambien here,” Gavin said holding up a pill bottle.

Michael held his hands out and Gavin tossed him the bottle. “You got a prescription for this?” He asked the woman.

“Y-yes, but its an old one, I haven’t taken it in a while, g-gave me nightmares…”

“Well, renew it. You’re gonna go to the police station tomorrow with this bottle and a prescription from your doctor. You’re gonna say you were loopy on medication you had just started taking again and got me confused for someone else. Make up a description for another guy or just say you were high as fuck and you don’t know shit. You do a good job of it, we’ll hear about it; you get to live out the rest of your days in peace. You don’t do what I ask,” he stepped forward, thrusting the gun towards her face. “You can guess what I’ll do. And I won’t stop with you. Looks like you got a lot of loved ones.” He motioned towards the photos she had on her wall.

She nodded fervently. “I swear I’ll do it, cross my heart.”

Michael set the bottle down on the kitchen table. He looked around and saw Gavin kneeling on the carpet, petting the woman’s little white dog.

“Not a very good guard dog are you puppy?” Gavin cooed quietly to the animal.

“Seriously?” he whispered and Gavin shot up, faintly self-conscious.

Michael turned back to the woman, who was struggling to keep herself from crying.

“Now why don’t you take one of these and go back to bed.” He pointed at the sleeping pills. “Those nightmares you’re so worried about aren’t shit compared to me. Don’t forget - we’ll be watching,” he snarled menacingly before walking out, Gavin at his heels.

It was warm and balmy outside. The sky had gone from red and gold to a haze of violet, awash with clouds. Michael and Gavin got silently back into the car. The trials of the day had caught up to them. Exhaustion was steadily creeping in. Though they wouldn’t know for sure if their intimidation had worked, it still felt like a victory. And to celebrate all they wanted to do was sleep. Gavin drove them away from the apartment complex, before stopping once they were a few blocks down.

“Can’t go back to your place yet I suppose, not till we know its safe,” Gavin said.

“Yeah. I really don’t want to spend another night in that fucking hotel though.”

I’d let you stay at mine, but I don’t think I’ll be able to go home myself. My roomie will go mental if he sees me like this.” He gestured to the still bloodstained shirt he was wearing underneath the jacket he had pulled on.

“Ugh,” Michael growled, leaning his head back.

“Maybe Geoff will let us crash at his. I think his wife’s still staying in a hotel.” Gavin pulled out his phone.

“Geoff’s like… your boss, right? The one that wanted to hire me?” Michael asked.

Gavin shrugged. “It’s a bit complicated, but yeah, something like that. Damn, I completely forgot that Geoff was hiring you after this, almost thought I was about to see the last of you.” He grinned at him.

“Gus said he had some kinda heist planned? Guess we’ll be working together on that.”

“Yeah, it’ll be top. We work pretty damn well together! We need a team name!”

Michael sighed. “Okay, we’re Team I-Need-To-Go-The-Fuck-To-Sleep-Right-Now.”

“Aww, Michael! Don’t ruin my fun!”

“Team Seriously-I’m-About-To-Pass-Out.”

“Alright, alright, I’m calling Geoff, hang on!” Gavin dialed Geoff’s number.

“Team Help-Me-Gavin-I’m-Dying-” he flailed his arms at Gavin who pushed him away.

“Geoff! Yeah, it’s me! We took care of everything. I got Michael and we’re well knackered, wondering if we could… Really? Thanks man, we’ll head over. Yeah. Okay. See ya soon.” Gavin hung up.

“He said it was okay?” Michael asked, staring at him blearily. He had tilted his seat back as far as it would go.

Gavin nodded. “He said we were welcome to crash in his guestroom. You can nap if you like, I’ll get us h-” he stopped himself, “ –there safely.”

Michael simply hummed under his breath turned his head, already drifting off anyway. He couldn’t help but feel warmth blossoming in his chest at the idea that Michael trusted him enough to sleep in his car. The day’s events had proven his reliability enough, he supposed. Still, it was rather nice.

Gavin pulled out onto the road. He slowed at every yellow light and stopped at every red. He kept an eye out for pedestrians. He only went just slightly above the speed limit.

Geoff was outside waiting for them when they arrived. He gave a little wave from the front stoop. Gavin smiled and waved back. A welcoming glow came from the inside of the house.

“This it?” Michael groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah,” Gavin said quietly. “This is it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay Michael and Gavin! Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Chapter Title Song:  
> Servin' 'Em Heat by South Central Cartel (GTA 5)


	4. Getaway Driver

** The Devils You Know **

Part One

A Hard Knock Life

Chapter Four

Getaway Driver

  

“Who wants waffles?” Geoff called from the kitchen. He had busted out the waffle maker he had used only once or twice before. It was kinda nice having other people to cook for, for a change. His wife was usually on some health kick or another, so in recent years Geoff had found himself becoming more of a TV dinner kind of guy.

“Mmm, waffles,” Michael groaned from the couch, his voice raspy from sleep.

“There’s bacon and eggs too,” Geoff replied, moving to set the table.

“Oooh, double mmm.” Michael sat up, stretching. “Gavin still here?”

“Yeah, he just got out of the shower.”

“Better get my ass up. That was seriously the best I’ve slept in like… months. How is your couch comfier than my bed?”

Geoff laughed. “Money can get you a lotta things, my friend, including extremely comfy couches.”

He had chatted a little with Michael and Gavin the night before. They had given him an abbreviated version of yesterday’s events, which they recalled for him with varying levels of mania and exhaustion. From what he gathered it seemed like their combined talents had got them out alive without too much of a hitch. He couldn’t help but feel slightly better about bringing them in on the job. As little as he knew about all of them, at least they were capable of looking after themselves. Geoff didn’t fancy spending the entire heist babysitting a couple of untested rookies.

Geoff found himself curious about the histories of both young men, but especially Gavin, who had seemingly fled Britain with his best friend and little more than the clothes on his back. He knew more about the Los Santos underworld than Geoff himself and kept relatively cool under pressures that would have easily toppled any other guy his age. The younger man was something of a puzzle, and Geoff wasn’t sure how deep down the rabbit hole he was willing to go in order to solve it.

He had cared so deeply about his old crew, had been so wrapped up in their lives that their joys and hurts were his as well. Geoff didn’t know if he could go through that again. In the long run, it was probably better to keep it professional with this new crew.

It was hard though. Gavin and Michael both seemed fun and easy to talk to and Geoff wasn’t about to be a dick to them just to avoid friendship. He decided it was best just to be himself, while evading any questions that were too personal or probing.

“Smells good down here!” A voice called from upstairs. Gavin had started making his way down the stairs, his skin slightly pink and his hair still damp from the shower. He stopped inside the kitchen, seeing the meal Geoff had laid out for them.

“Woah Geoff, is this for us?”

“Who the fuck else would it be for? Now sit your little asses down and eat, we got shit to do today.”

Michael and gave sat down at the dining room table and Geoff followed suit.

“Thanks man, I’m fucking starving,” Michael said, mouth already stuffed with food.

“Yeah dude, and thanks for letting us crash here as well,” Gavin added with a nod.

“Not a problem. And seriously, stay as long as you like. I got all this room I don’t fucking need, with the wife gone and everything.” He stabbed at his waffles, seeming rather aggravated. “Speaking of the wife, I hate to do this, but I got a little favor to ask of you two.”

“Sure thing,” Michael replied immediately.

Gavin nodded along. “Yeah, whatcha need?”

“My wife is coming over to get some of her stuff today and she really doesn’t wanna see me. If you guys could help her move some shit for me, it’d really help me out a lot. Again, I fucking hate to ask…”

“Don’t even worry about it Geoff! Me and Mikey will take care of it, won’t we boy?”

“Call me Mikey again and I’ll fucking cut you,” Michael snapped before turning back to Geoff. “We can take care of it no problem, least we can do after putting us up for the night,” he said, suddenly cheerful.

Geoff huffed out a breath, relieved. “Thanks guys. She’ll be dropping by in a bit. I gotta go pick our fourth crewman and then we can all meet back at Gus’s factory. You know where that is Michael?”

“Yeah, I’ve been there once before. Who you gotta pick up? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Our hacker, hopefully. His name’s Ray and seems to have a decent enough head on his shoulders, but he’s unproven. Keep an eye on him once you meet him, and tell me if he’s acting fishy, alright?”

“Sure thing,” Michael agreed. He had polished off a neat stack of waffles and a sizable pile of bacon and eggs. He rose from the table, went to the sink and began washing dishes. Someone had raised him right, it seemed.

“Why can’t Gus hack for us?” Gavin asked. He was still nibbling at some bacon.

“Gus doesn’t do field work, never has, and he can’t hack cameras for us from the factory, we need another guy on it. I was actually considering asking if you could do it until Ray came along.”

“Me? Nahh, I can do some stuff, dig up info, track people down, but hacking like that’s sophisticated stuff, not my territory.”

Geoff nodded, and then stood up himself. He grabbed a few dishes and stacked them near the sink. “I should head out, don’t wanna be around when she gets here. Michael - feel free to use the shower. I got spare toothbrushes in the drawer, towels are in the cabinet above the toilet.”

“Thanks, Geoff.”

Gavin nudged Michael away from the dishes and pushed him off towards the shower.

“So is she just coming for clothes and stuff? Or furniture too?” Gavin asked Geoff.

“Just clothes, bags, shoes, makeup, shit like that. Figure we can deal with the rest of our shit once this is all over. Once the… divorce is official I guess.” Geoff sighed. He didn’t even want to think about that whole mess.

“Rough stuff man, sorry,” said Gavin, wincing in sympathy.

“It was a long time coming.” Geoff shrugged. “Anyway, I’m out, remind Michael to get to you to Gus’s by noon sharp. If my wife is still hanging around just kick her the fuck out. Oh – and don’t mention any of the shit that’s happened over the last couple days, for the love of god.”

“Course. My lips are sealed.” Gavin made a lip-zipping motion with his hands.

“Thanks dude. See ya. SEE YA MICHAEL,” he called towards the shower. He heard Michael’s muffled goodbye through the sound of rushing water.

 

* * *

 

Ray was like, 75% sure that Geoff wasn’t going murder him, but it didn’t hurt to be a little careful. Along with his computer and the rest of his gear he had stuffed inside his backpack, Ray had also packed a small coil stun gun in the outside pocket, for easy access. For extra safety, his switchblade was tucked into his pants pocket.

There was no way he’d be able to take anyone in a fight, let alone a criminal like Geoff, but he figured if he added the element of surprise into the mix, he’d be able to make a less-than-daring escape at least. Hopefully his cautiousness was unnecessary.

Ray had told Geoff to pick him up at an intersection near his apartment. There was no _way_ he was giving out his home address. He headed outside into the muggy morning air and started down the block.

“Hey baby, how much?” A voice called from the street. Ray turned to see Geoff in his little black convertible, one hand on the wheel, the other leaning against the car door.

“More than you can afford.” Ray grinned in spite of the nervousness coursing through him. He wasn’t always the best at talking to people. Most people didn’t seem to get his sense of humor. Luckily so far it seemed like Geoff wasn’t most people.

Ray hopped into the car.

“How you doing man?” Geoff asked as he pulled back out into the street.

“I’m alright, I mean, I’m sitting in a car with a complete stranger, so other than breaking my mother’s heart I’m cool.”

Geoff laughed. “Hey, what she don’t know won’t hurt her. Besides that, we wont be strangers for long, in fact, I’d say were well on our way to becoming… colleagues? Business associates....? Uhh…?”

“Partners in crime?” Ray supplied.

“Yeah, just don’t mention that one to your mom either.”

“Noted. So where are we heading?”

“We’re gonna swing by the place we're hitting. Figured you might wanna have a look at it in person. Before we do that though, I gotta make sure than you’re in for real. Once you know the locale, the job, the crew, there’s no going back you know?”

Ray nodded. “I know. I’m in. If you’re worried about me ratting you out, then don’t be. Believe it or not, my records not exactly clean, I’ve done small jobs, moving around funds, hacking into personal records, tapping into the criminal database, shit like that. If I turned you in I’d be fucking myself over too.”

“I don’t mean to be a paranoid bastard…” Geoff sighed. “I’ve had one hell of a week and I can’t afford anymore screw-ups. But you seem honest enough, so I’m gonna fucking trust you. I’m guessing I don’t have to warn you about what’ll happen if you _do_ rat…”

Ray patted the knife tucked away in his pocket. It was of small comfort. After seeing what Geoff had done to his former boss, there was no doubt that if Geoff wanted him dead, he’d use any means he could to do it.

“I get it. Like I said, I’m in.”

Geoff breathed out a sigh of relief. “Okay, now that that heavy fucking shit is done with, lets get our rears in gear. I’ll explain on the way.”

 

* * *

 

Geoff’s wife was not a particularly pleasant person. She had arrived in a big pickup with guy who looked like an actor in an aftershave commercial. As soon as Michael and Gavin had offered their help with moving her shit, she had begun to order them around.

“No, for fucks sake, don’t just throw them, fold them nicely!” She shouted to Michael, who was admittedly, tossing the contents of her dresser into a box rather haphazardly.

“ _Fold them nicely_ ,” Michael mocked as soon as she was out of earshot. “Damn, I can see why Geoff dumped her ass.”

“I’m pretty sure _she_ dumped _him_ ,” Gavin replied. He was busy packing away her impressive collection of shoes.

“Well, then he dodged a real bullet.” He opened another drawer. “I am _not_ touching her underwear.”

“You want me to do it?”

“Stay away from the panties you fucking pervert,” Michael said in faux disgust. “I got a better idea.”

He removed some of the neatly folded clothes from the box, then pulled the whole drawer out of the dresser and dumped the underwear into the box. Finally he placed the folded clothes back on top.

“There,” he said with satisfaction. “All done. Here, let me help you.”

“Noo Michael!” Gavin whined as Michael began shoving shoes into his box with reckless abandon. “You’re making a mess! Stop!”

“Are you guys almost done up there?” Geoff’s wife called from downstairs. “I need you to move some art for me!”

Gavin and Michael hefted the boxes full of clothes, shoes and bags down the stairs.

“Why can’t she get her fucking boy toy to help? He’s just sitting out there talking on his cellphone and smoking cigarettes!” Michael hissed to Gavin.

“Shhh… you’re being a twat! She’ll hear you!” Gavin cried.

“Load those in the back of the truck. I’ve got some paintings and sculptures I still wanna get too,” said Geoff’s wife suddenly, appearing at the bottom of the stairs. She was giving Michael some serious stink eye.

They marched off and returned with more empty boxes.

“Is Geoff alright with you taking his art?” Gavin asked. Looking around the room, there were more than a few paintings and a couple sculptures lying around. Geoff hadn’t exactly mentioned what specifically she _wasn’t_ allowed to take.

“It isn’t _his_ art to begin with. He never really gave a shit about it, and anyway, I bought it, so it’s mine.”

“Yeah, bought it with his money probably,” Michael muttered under his breath.

She shot him a death glare. “Who the fuck are you to judge me? What are you, twelve? Keep your mouth shut if you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” She stomped off toward the entryway.

“Damn, alright.”

Michael strangely seemed to appreciate a person who gave as good as they got. He smirked a little to himself and didn’t say another word. Gavin on the other hand, was stifling a giggle. Michael elbowed him in the ribs as they followed her towards the entryway.

“I want these two sculptures here,” she said, gesturing to a gray horse and what looked like a man’s chest molded from clay. “And the landscape and the flower painting. There’s a couple more in the living room and one in the kitchen I’d like too.”

She handed them a couple of rolled up newspapers. “Pack them in nicely with these, I don’t want them breaking on the way there. Give the paintings to Claude; have him put them in the middle seat.”

After packing and boxing away all the art she wanted they returned to the living room. Gavin glanced up at the clock. It was nearing noon. They needed to head off soon.

“Anything else you need?” Gavin asked. “We’ve got to head out in a minute.”

“I’m… debating,” she said softly. She was standing in front of painting in the living room, one of the few she hadn’t instructed them to take. It was a painted portrait of her and Geoff, years younger. They both had longer hair, softer eyes and big, easy smiles.

“You want this one?” he asked her.

“When we moved here a few years ago, we never thought we’d be so homesick. We thought we’d leave Texas and never think about it again. But it wasn’t like that. We had left everything behind, our jobs, our friends, our families – all of it was just _gone_. When we moved into this house, it felt so sad and empty… so, this painting was like our… promise to one another. We’d start again. We’d fill this empty house with life and memories… and we’d be each other’s family.”

She let out a melancholy laugh.

“So we got this cheesy fucking thing commissioned. Our first and only family portrait. I hated how I looked in it, I thought the painter made me look so goofy, but it made Geoff laugh every time he saw it. So I hung it up in here. I used to look at it too. When I needed to remind myself about how much we loved each other, how much we had given up for one another.” She drew in a trembling breath.

 _Fuck_. She was crying.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin said with great alarm. “D- Do you want me to get –“

“It’s fine,” she rasped, waving him off. “I’m just you know, watching ten years of my life slip away, no big deal. God, look at me, crying my eyes out in front of strangers. How pathetic am I?”

“It’s not –” Gavin started, then he stopped himself, sighing. “Are you gonna be alright?”

“I will be, eventually. This is the best decision I ever made. It still hurts like hell… but I know I’m doing the right thing, at the end of the day. Hey… look out for him for me, will you? I don’t know if you’re coworkers or friends or what…”

“Both... I think,” said Gavin.

She nodded. “He doesn’t do well by himself, never has. He gets really lonely. He’ll drink himself stupid if you let him. I just… I don’t want this to be the thing that sends him into a downward spiral, y’know? Even if we’re not together, I still want him to be happy.”

“Of course,” Gavin replied.

“We’ll look out for him,” Michael spoke up from where he was leaning against the wall.

Her shoulders lifted slightly. She seemed relieved.

“I… thank you. I suppose I better get going. Here,” she said, rummaging through her purse, she pulled a hundred dollar bill and passed it to Gavin. “For both of you. Sorry I don’t have anything smaller, thank you for the help.”

“You don’t have to—” Gavin said as Michael bumped into him, taking the money.

“No problem at all!” he interrupted.

She went to the front door, stepping out into the sunshine. Claude was waiting in the truck.

“Wait!” Gavin called after her. “Did you want that painting, or?”

She turned back to him, shaking her head slightly. “No. I’ll let Geoff have that one. Maybe looking at it will still making him smile. Maybe he’d like to burn it. Either way, it belongs to him.”

She gave a little laugh, ducked into the passengers seat, and was gone.

 

* * *

 

Gus was standing front of his mobile bulletin inside of the garment factory, staring at the maps, blueprints and photos he had pinned together for the jewel store job. He was hemming and hawing under his breath, apparently in deep concentration.

“Uhh, Gus?” Geoff piped suddenly from the couch in the corner of the room. “We’re all here, waiting on you, buddy.”

Geoff and Ray had taken seats together on the couch. Michael had shoved a bunch of Gus’s paperwork aside and was perched on his desk, and Gavin was sitting backwards on Gus’s office chair.

“Right.” Gus turned to them. “Lets go over what we know. Geoff and, its Ray, right?”

“Yup,” responded Ray, giving an awkward little wave. “Nice to meet you.”

“You and Geoff got good looks at the security system and the cameras this morning. You think you can hack them?”

Ray seemed to sense that this was more of a test than anything, because he sat up very straight, looking thoughtful.

“Seemed like a pretty simple set-up to me. They got cameras broadcasting to a remote server, so we could probably wipe em remotely too. The alarm system was linked to the door lock. I can get you guys a sizable window to get in, get the jewels and get out before the cameras and alarms come back on. No problem.”

Gus nodded, satisfied enough with his response. Gavin and Michael were watching him, obviously a bit more impressed.

“Anything to add Geoff?” Gus asked.

“For those of us grabbing the jewels, the more valuable merchandise was in the cabinets in the center of the store, by the register. So when we go in, we start there and move around the room clockwise so we don’t bump into each other. Glass in the cabinets didn’t look bulletproof, so we should be able to smash ‘em easily enough. But like most jewel stores, the stones will be in the safe at night… so…”

“We go in during the day?” Michael asked. “Seems risky, we’d need hella crowd control to pull that off. Plus there’s a security guard to deal with.”

“He won’t want to die for rich arseholes that rub his nose in it, will he though?” Gavin added.

“I’m all for causing a ruckus, believe me, just don’t wanna get caught by the cops before we get through the front door.”

That’s why I put together two ways I see of doing this – we go in smart or we go in loud and dumb,” Gus responded. He pinned a piece of paper with the word “smart” written on it over a photo of the vents above Vangelico.

“Remember the vents? If we’re gonna be smart – which I always recommend – we pump a little knockout gas through the air system, then hit the cabinets while everyone is out. The smart way is usually the more complicated way, of course. We’ll have to source the gas, but at least the crowd control won’t slow you down, and you can be quiet about it, that might improve the take.”

“We’d need a cover though right?” asked Ray. “Can’t exactly waltz through the front doors and start chucking gas at people.”

Gus pointed at him. “Exactly! I’m thinking pest control as a cover.”

Geoff nodded appreciatively. “Yeah, that way no one will bat an eye at guys wearing gas masks. And with the vents on the roof, we can have someone climb up through the construction scaffolding and lob a gas canister in that way.”

“We’ll need to steal ourselves a pest control van too, so that’s another complication,” Michael added.

Gus pinned “loud and dumb” to the board over an image of the Los Santos police station. “The other way requires less setup and is less complicated, but more dangerous. You do it that way you’ll need your famous way with people and a couple of big, scary guns to keep the hostages at bay. I’m thinking carbine rifles.”

“I got one of those,” Michael piped.

“How’d you manage that?” Gus asked.

“Got it off a dead gangster.” He shrugged.

“Well, we’ll need more than one of them. Can’t buy them without worrying about them getting traced. We’ll have to track down some already in circulation. This is the gun favored by LSPD tactical teams, so one of their vans is probably a good place to look.”

“So those are our options?” Geoff asked.

Gus nodded. “Your pick.”

Geoff stood up, approaching the board. “What does everyone else think?”

“You’re the boss man, boss man,” Gavin said. “I’ll leave it to you if everyone else is alright with that.”

“Fine by me,” Michael replied.

“Same,” said Ray.

“Well, a few years ago I would have been all about the loud and dumb way. But I’d like to think I’ve gotten wise in my old age. This isn’t about guts and glory. This is about money. I’d say we go smart.”

“Smart it is.” Gus removed the “loud and dumb” option from the board.

“So that just leaves our exit strategy,” Geoff said.

“Ahh, yes. We’ll need a driver to source some bikes and a box truck to hide the bikes in for us. The police will be on you hard and fast once you leave the store with the money. I’m thinking the best way to make a getaway is to outmaneuver them. Get our driver to plot a route through the subway tunnel they’re digging off the Del Perro freeway, and you and your boys can follow him on bikes. If the driver can find a safe place to pull out, Ray can take the box truck out once he’s done hacking and meet us near the exit point. We pop the bikes back in the truck and drive off in the clear.”

“Uhh, that sounds really good, but I feel I should mention –”

“He doesn’t know how to drive,” Geoff said bluntly.

“Maybe me or Michael can drive the truck after we get the jewels instead?” Gavin asked.

Gus shook his head. “If you exit the store and get into the box truck, the police will see. The truck can’t outspeed one of their cruisers. Whoever drives it needs to steer clear of heat, which is why Ray would be perfect since he can park the truck down the block and hack from there.”

“Well we don’t have time for fucking driving lessons, so I guess that means we’ll need a second driver. One to help us out with the bikes, and one for the box truck,” Geoff said definitively.

“Sorry guys,” Ray said a little dejectedly from his seat.

“S’okay man!” Gavin said cheerfully, shooting him a grin.

Ray smiled faintly back.

“I’ll see if any drivers I know are willing to take a cut on pay,” Gus said rather grumpily. “In the meantime, you four can work on getting the knockout gas and the pest control van.”

Geoff clapped his hands together, glad to have something to do. “Alright so Bugstars Pest Control is a good place to start for the van.”

Ray pulled out his phone and starting tapping away. “Looks like they got a warehouse in the Port of Los Santos. They’ve definitely got some security in the port, but if we’re quiet, we can sneak around back and steal the van without drawing their attention.”

“Sounds good. I want you and Gavin on the van. I’m thinking the knockout gas will be a little more complicated, so I’ll take Michael with me.”

“I’ve got a line on the knockout gas. It’s made in a lab on the coast, but two shipments a day come through the city from the northeast, taking it to the airport.”

“So we’re jumping one?” Michael asked, rather excitedly.

“Yup, you got guns on you?” Geoff asked.

“Fully loaded, baby!” Michael exclaimed. “I’ll grab my shit from Gavin’s piece of shit purple fucktruck.” He took off.

“Speaking of that god-awful thing, Gavin, yours is more of a stealth mission, so for the love of god, either steal a better car or get that thing repainted.”

“Aww, but the purple was starting to grow on me,” he responded sadly. “C’mon Ray, let’s go.”

He and Ray headed off together.

“Alright Gus,” Geoff said, turning towards his old friend. “You got everything handled here?”

“Sure do. I’ll drop you a line once I’ve nailed down our drivers. Be safe out there. And keep tabs on the kids.”

Geoff laughed. “Sure thing. They seemed pretty fucking responsible though, maybe they should be the ones keeping tabs on me.”

Gus just shook his head and started shoving him out the door.

 

* * *

 

“This the first time you ever stole a car?” Gavin asked. They were heading down the highway in the black Buccaneer Gavin had boosted for them.

“Seeing as how I have never driven before – yes. And technically I didn’t steal it, you did.”

“Fair enough,” Gavin replied with a grin. “But we’re definitely both going down for it if we get caught.”

“Lets try not to get caught then.”

Ray wasn’t exactly sure what to make of Gavin. He seemed friendly enough and charming in a silly sort of way. The British accent helped. The guy certainly didn’t look like a criminal, with his tussled blondish hair, light tan and easy-going grin. Though he supposed he was hardly an expert on the subject.

“So Geoff never told me how the two of you met,” said Gavin, taking them onto the Elysian Fields freeway bridge.

“Oh, you know, he picked me up in a bar, he took me home, we made sweet, sweet love and then he murdered my boss and I blackmailed him into hiring me.”

“You’re having a laugh!” Gavin cried.

“I look like I’m laughing?” Ray asked with a straight face.

“Fine, if you don’t wanna tell me, then don’t,” Gavin replied in a huff.

Ray shrugged. “Not trying to be an asshole, I just don’t know what Geoff does or doesn’t want out there.”

He pulled out his smartphone, pulling up a map of Los Santos. “This is our exit.”

“Right,” said Gavin, pulling them off the freeway and onto Elysian Island.

“This is it,” Ray said, glancing up at the sign at the entrance to the docks. “West Docks, pier 400. The Bugstars warehouse should be the fifth door down. Looks like security cameras are offline during the day so we just gotta worry about being spotted by actual people.”

Gavin pulled the car over into a small lot on the right. He started to get out, then stopped, turning back to look at Ray. “Maybe I should handle this myself. I could get the van and have you follow me back.”

“Dude, you keep forgetting. I. Can’t. Drive.”

Gavin bopped himself on the forehead with his palm. “Duh. Course. Knew that.”

“We go in together. Try to steal one all stealth like. I’m pretty good at sneaking around.”

Gavin nodded. “If anyone asks why we’re looking at the warehouses cause we want to… buy one.”

“I look like I got money to you?”

“Just go with it!”

They headed off towards the back of the warehouses. A sea wind had stirred up the waves, they crashed along the edges of the dock to right of them. Ray could make out a few ships in the distance, bobbing in the choppy water.

Luckily there weren’t a whole lot of people milling around. They approached the Bugstars warehouse door quietly, ducking down once they heard voices.

“Stay here, I’m gonna peak around the corner, see what we got,” Ray said. He crept up close to the edge of the door and poked his head around the corner. After watching for a few seconds he turned around and tiptoed back towards Gavin.

“So?”

“They’re getting ready to head out on a job soon, so we gotta move fast before they shut the doors again. Only problem is there’s a truck idling right by the door with a guy standing at the back.”

“We can’t wait for him to move, he might just hop in the damn van and drive off. Are there more guys in there?”

Ray nodded. “Yeah, but they’re standing at the other entrance on the opposite side. Maybe if we knock the guy standing in the back out, we can drive out on this side real quiet before they notice.”

“Alright. I’ll knock him out then. You keep watch while I get in van and then hop in once I drive out. Good?”

“All good in the hood,” Ray replied, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt.

He snuck after Gavin just enough so he could keep an eye on him. Slowly, Gavin skulked towards the Bugstars guy. Ray watched as Gavin pulled out his gun, fearing for a moment that he would just shoot the guy, but instead he stood up and raised his hand like he was going to pistol-whip him.

Ray had seen people do shit like that in movies and video games plenty of time. One bonk to the head and – boom – out like a light. He had no idea what kind of force you’d need to exert in order to actually knock someone out like that, but he figured Gavin knew what he was doing.

Or not...

Gavin smacked the guy in the head with his gun, coming down hard on his skull and bouncing back. Instead of falling to the ground in a dead sleep, however, the guy doubled over, dazed and swearing in pain, hand flying to the back of his head.

Well, shit.

It felt like his body moved of his own accord. Ray dashed towards the guy, grabbing him from behind; he wrapped one arm around the guy’s mouth and the other around his arms and torso.

Gavin looked stunned for a moment before leaping into action. He moved to help restrain the man. The guy was still struggling, but rather feebly. The botched pistol-whipping seemed to have stunned him at least.

“What do we do?” Gavin whispered in a panic.

“Uhh…” Ray glanced around. The other guys in the warehouse were still at their posts, having not heard the small commotion.

“How about we take him for a swim?” He nodded towards the ocean.

“Shite….” Gavin responded. “Lets do this and get out of here!”

They hefted the weakly struggling man to the edge of the docks. It was about an eight-foot drop down into the rough sea.

“On one… two… three…. “ Ray counted.

They weren’t exactly able to lift him and toss him in. Rather unceremoniously, Ray released the man and Gavin sent him toppling over the edge with a shove. The guy dipped below the white waves and they didn’t stick around to see if he came back up again.

Gavin slipped back into the waiting van. It was still running with the keys in the ignition. He backed out quietly, slowing enough to let Ray hop in.

Once they had cleared the docks and turned back onto the freeway, Ray broke the silence with a laugh.

“Jesus Christ. That was the lamest thing I’ve ever seen!” he said, chuckling.

“I thought it would work! I hit him _really_ hard Ray! Michael did the same thing to a guy yesterday and it worked for him! I don’t bloody get it!” He whined.

“The look on your face dude…” Ray laughed; mimicking the startled, bug-eyed stare Gavin had given him. “I almost pissed myself!”

“Oh yeah, laugh it up, bastard,” Gavin muttered sullenly. “You were looking well queasy. You sure you didn’t piss yourself for real when we shoved that guy into the damn lake?”

“It was an ocean,” Ray intoned. “And yeah I was shitting myself. I was piss-shitting. Shit-pissing. It was disgusting, I’m surprised you can’t smell it.”

Gavin shifted as far away from him in the van as he could get. “Ray! I’m going vomit all over myself, stop it!”

Ray laughed and after a moment Gavin joined him.

“For real though, think that guy like… drowned?” Ray asked.

“Dunno,” Gavin replied. “I mean, better for us if he did, to be honest, but he could just be having a lovely swim down there.”

“Yeah…. I wonder how Geoff and Michael are doing.”

“Michael can handle himself pretty damn well, and Geoff is a real pro, sooo,” Gavin considered. “They’re probably kicking up their feet and having bevs by now!”

 

* * *

 

“Fuck my entire asshole, can these fucking pigs hop off our dicks already!” Michael screamed out of the passenger window of the van as Geoff drove. He pointed his SMG out the window, trying to shoot out the tires of the pursing police.

“I don’t think shooting at them is going to make them want to chase us less!” Geoff screamed back. His knuckles were white on the wheel.

“Well it should! Have some self-preservation you fucks!” he bellowed, squeezing the trigger again.

The initial plan had gone well enough. They had ambushed the van carrying the gas grenades on the railroad that cut through the end of Chianski Passage, where the lab was located. Geoff had found a hidden place to stow his car near the grain silos by the railroad. Michael had stood in the middle of the road, waiting for the van. When the confused driver slowed down to a stop in front of him, Geoff had leapt out from cover and dragged the guy out of the van, fishing in his pocket to steal his phone before tossing him roughly into the dirt.

They had thought that taking the guys phone would given them plenty of time to quietly make the drive back without drawing police attention.

They had been wrong.

“We’re gonna be in fucking city soon Geoff! We’ll never make it out alive if we get stuck in there!”

“Alright, alright, lemme think a second here!” Geoff screeched. He was driving as fast as the van would allow him, and though Michael was doing a decent job of keeping the three cop cars from getting too close, he knew there was no chance in hell of them being able to maneuver quickly once they drove into the busy city streets.

“Geoff!” Michael cried. “Take an exit!”

“There are no damn exits! We are fresh out of fucking exits!”

“Then turn us the fuck around!”

_Shit._

“Hold on to something!” Geoff shouted.

He spun the wheel of the van, skidding into a 180-degree turn. As soon as he came out of the turn, he floored it, driving the wrong way down the Senora Freeway, towards a freeway entrance ramp that came from the Vinewood Bowl. The cop cars weren’t able to react quickly enough to avoid crashing into one another.

“Geoff, you’re taking us down a dead end! This is the road to the amphitheater!”

“I know that dummy! I have a plan!” He shouted, barreling down the road and into the packed Vinewood Bowl parking lot.

“Why are there so many fucking people here?” Michael asked.

Geoff brought the car to a halt in the parking lot. “They shoot that shitty Fame or Shame show here. C’mon, grab as much gas from the back as you can and lets sneak out before the cops show.”

Michael followed orders quickly. Together they made their way towards the amphitheater. There were hundreds of people in the stands, crowded together, cheering and jeering at the show playing out on stage. Geoff tried to look relaxed and casual as they climbed the stairs to the highest seats.

The sound of police sirens joined the din of the crowd. Geoff grabbed Michael by the sleeve and yanked him down into a row of empty seats near the back.

“What?!” Michael hissed at him, shaking his hand off. “We need to keep moving! We can get back to the road up and over that hill”

“No,” Geoff insisted. “They’ll be back here in a second, they’ll spot us trying to leave. There is no way we can climb that hill in time. Just be cool and blend in.”

Michael huffed out a frustrated breath but nodded. They settled down in their seats, pretending to watch the show while keeping an eye on the exits.

A few cops appeared around the corner, their eyes scanning the crowd and the edges of the amphitheater. Eventually one of them got a call on his radio. He grabbed the other cops by the arm and motioned for them to leave.

“Should we leave now, or wait?” Michael whispered close to Geoff’s ear.

“I dunno,” Geoff said. “Maybe they found the empty van. They could put up a roadblock outside the theatre, not let anyone out till they search everyone for the missing gas.”

“Shit. If that’s the case, we need to move while no ones watching, right?” Michael asked urgently.

“Yeah I – ” Geoff froze as he felt a hand grab onto his shoulder.

“Sounds like you guys are in a bit of a pickle!” Said a voice from behind them, low but cheerful. “Maybe I can help?”

Geoff slowly turned his neck to look, and was affronted with possible the douchiest looking guy in existence. He was wearing a dark sunglasses and a cowboy hat, but perhaps the greatest affront to god and fashion was the bright purple blazer.

“Who the hell are you?” Geoff hissed. Michael turned around as well, eyes widening as he took in the guy seated behind them.

“Fuck, you’re that racecar driver’s kid! I saw you on that VHTV Cribs show!” Michael exclaimed.

“Dude! That’s awesome! That wasn’t even my crib though, they just brought me to –”

Geoff grabbed the guy’s arm in one hand and with the other, twisted back his pinky finger, almost to the point of breaking.

“I’ll ask one more time, _politely_. Who the hell are you?”

“Ow, ow! Okay! My name’s Jeremy Dooley! I want to help! I saw you guys drive in while I was taking a call.”

“Why would you wanna help us?” Geoff asked, loosening his grip slightly to avoid attention.

“Who the fuck cares why he wants to help us? I don’t see anyone else volunteering!” Michael whisper-shouted.

“I’ve got wheels. _Fast_ wheels. I can have the car brought to the road out back, Fenwell Place. We get behind the amphitheater we can leg it down to the road before the cops get a chance to search the stands.”

“Fuck me,” Geoff muttered, contemplating.

“Geoff, you said it yourself. They’ll catch us for sure if they see us running around trying to find a car. We need to get out of here, quick.”

“I dunoo….”

“Geoff,” Michael moaned, impatient.

“Looks like they’re starting to search the stands.” Jeremy nodded towards the other end of the amphitheater, where a cop had begun to ascend the first row.

“Ugh,” Geoff growled. “Alright…. Fine. Lets do this. Don’t try anything funny.”

“I know you’re armed and dangerous,” Jeremy replied. He had taken out his phone and was firing off a text.

Geoff looked panicked for a moment.

“Don’t worry, just getting my guy to move the car.”

Standing up, Jeremy was broad-shouldered and husky, but kinda ridiculously short.

“I know guys with dicks bigger than you,” Geoff whispered, half under his breath.

“Dude,” said Jeremy, sounding impressed and not at all offended. “Introduce me.”

Quickly and quietly they made their way to the last row. The stands were virtually empty in the back, allowing them to vault over the wall unnoticed. Geoff stuck close to Jeremy, his hands ready to whip out his gun in a flash. They crept along the back wall of the amphitheater and then down the hill towards Fenwell Place.

“Jesus Christ. Could your car be anymore conspicuous?” Geoff groaned.

Waiting for them on the road was a purple and gold Albany Buccaneer with neon orange leather seating. Jeremy laughed delightedly in response.

The driver stepped out and Jeremy grabbed the keys from him. “Thanks dude, we’ll take it from here.”

“You’re leaving your driver here?” Geoff asked.

“Figured you guys would be more comfortable without him. He can grab a cab home. You wanna drive?” He asked Geoff, dangling the keys at him.

Geoff snatched the keys. “Get in the passenger’s seat. Michael you sit behind him. He tries anything, stick a knife in his neck.”

Michael nodded approvingly and hopped over the door into the backseat. Once Jeremy got in the passenger’s seat he pulled out Gavin’s knife, twirling it threateningly.

Geoff took off down the road, heading toward downtown Vinewood.

“I wanna know why you’re helping us,” Geoff said again. “Most people see two guys running from the cops their first instinct isn’t to lend them a fucking hand.”

Jeremy smiled. “Dude, it’s a helluva long story. But to keep things simple, I’m in the game too, just in a different way.”

“What’s your poison?” Geoff asked.

“Cars,” Jeremy replied. “This city is full of rich old fucks with ten-car garages filled with million dollar rides, sitting there, gathering dust. They know my name and know my dad’s name, they don’t mind giving me a little tour of the place, maybe even a test drive. While I’m there I get to know their schedule, figure out how to get back in the house, take imprints of any cars keys and memorize makes, models and VIN numbers. Some newer cars use keyless entry, but with the right information you can order a new remote online that’ll work just as well. Then I come back at night for the rides and anything else worth stealing. I re-plate everything, keep anything that looks fun and sell the rest to people who actually appreciate them. Simple.”

He leaned back in his seat, careless and cheery.

“Jeez, kid. Way to fuck the system. I can dig it.” Geoff said approvingly. “So you just wanna help out your fellow criminal, that it?”

Jeremy shrugged. “Basically.”

“So…” Michael piped from the backseat. “You boost cars for a living… what about bikes?”

“Michael…” Geoff warned.

“Hey, I’m just asking!”

“I’ve been known to boost a bike or two, or two dozen. I’ve got a couple waiting on new plates at home. Why?” Jeremy asked. “You looking to buy?”

“We looking to… borrow, maybe we could – ”

“Michael!” Geoff cut him off. “Seriously, how about not discussing our plans with a fucking stranger!”

“We’re not strangers. I just told you my goddamn life story here! And hey, maybe I can help you! I’ve actually been looking for a solid crew, y’know? Most crews either don’t want the notoriety of a name like mine, or they think I’ve got money coming out my ass – ”

“Don’t you?” Michael asked. “Your dad’s a world famous racecar driver and your Mom is the “Plastic Surgeon to the Stars” if I remember. That kinda fame doesn’t come without boatloads of cash. ”

“Yeah, well, shit changes.” Jeremy sighed. “Look, I’m gonna level with you. My family cut me off two years ago for pulling one too many stupid stunts. That’s when I started using my family’s name to boost cars. No one knows that I’m not on speaking terms with my dad anymore, so I could get away with it. But I got a text from my mom a few days ago. I haven’t heard a peep from her in this long, and suddenly she texts me telling me to watch out cause my dad is planning on publicly disowning me on a stupid morning show interview next month… are you getting this?”

“Once your dad starts talking shit on the news…” Michael trailed off.

“You won’t exactly be able to go door to door scamming anymore,” Geoff finished.

Jeremy nodded his head sadly. “Yeah. So before the month is up I’ll need a new source of income, or else I’ll have to start selling shit off, _fast_. I’ve been trying to find a crew, but most just want me for my fucking name, and pretty soon, I won’t have that…. So, if I can help you while I can, maybe you can help me? Find a spot for me on your team? Or put in a good word for me with someone else? I’ll really take anything at this point.”

Geoff had pulled the Buccaneer to a stop a few blocks away from Gus’s garment factory. He turned to look at Jeremy, who was staring forlornly at his lap.

“I’m inclined to give you a chance… but first, Michael, what do you think?” he asked, turning to face the back seat.

Michael seemed slightly taken back at being asked for his opinion. He considered for a moment before glancing back over at Jeremy.

“You a good driver?” he asked.

Jeremy perked up slightly. “Hell yeah I am. You name it, I can drive it, land vehicles, sea vehicles, I even I got my private pilots license!”

“Then I say, fuck it.” Michael shrugged. “Welcome to the isle of misfit toys.”

Jeremy was practically bouncing up and down in his seat.

Geoff stifled a laugh. It seemed like every member of his crew was destined to just fall right into his lap.

“Alright then!” he said, clapping his hands together. “Looks like we just got ourselves a getaway driver.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! The last chapter of Part One will be up tomorrow. And then on to Part Two!
> 
> Chapter Title Song:  
> Getaway Driver by Maino (GTA 4)


	5. Wanted Dead or Alive

**The Devils You Know**  

Part One

A Hard Knock Life

Chapter Five

Wanted Dead Or Alive

 

There was a weird girl sitting on the steps outside the Darnell Bros. garment factory. She had a pale blonde pixie cut, baggy clothes and looked like she had just been in one hell of a fight with her purple shiner, cut lip and left arm in a sling.

As Geoff, Michael, and Jeremy approached, she stood up slowly, wincing.

“Hey guys,” she said, cheerful but slightly awkward. “I’m Kerry. Gus says I’m supposed to wait here, but you can go on up.”

She stepped out of their way, gesturing to the door.

Uhh, okay?” Geoff said, confused. “Are you the other driver Gus was looking for?”

“Umm, yeah I think so. I mean, I am, but its up to you. I think he wants to discuss it with you upstairs first… so…” she trailed off shrugging.

“Alright then… good talk.” Geoff strode past her, followed closely by Michael.

"Should I stay here too or…?” Jeremy asked.

"I’m the boss, if I say you’re in, then your fucking in, if Gus doesn’t like it, that’s his problem,” Geoff answered.

Gavin and Ray had already arrived at the garment factory. Geoff found them along with Gus in the office. Ray was sitting on the couch, playing with a DS. Gavin seemed to be involved in a heated argument with Gus about something that sounded incredibly stupid. They quieted down as Geoff and the others came through the door.

“You’re back!” Gavin said happily.

“Yo." Ray waved, not looking up.

Michael slung the pack containing the gas grenades off of his shoulder and flopped down on the couch next to Ray.

“What’s up bitches? We brought presents!” He held one of the gas grenades aloft in triumph.

“Be careful with that!” Gus snapped, snatching the bag and the grenade out of his hands. “These are _not_ toys. And what took you so long? Ray and Gavin were here two hours ago!”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. We ran into some heat on the way back with the stuff. Got our motorcycle guy too,” said Geoff.

Jeremy poked his head out from around Geoff’s shoulder. “Hi!” he greeted them with a jaunty wave. “Sup, I’m Jeremy. My friends call me Lil-J.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Gus sighed, kneading his forehead. “Seriously Geoff? You know who he is right?”

Though he had had no idea who the kid or his dad was an hour earlier, he wasn’t about to let Gus know that. Geoff gave a firm nod. “I sure do, and I think he’ll make a great asset to the team. “

“Geoff, the last thing we need is some spoilt rich kid who wants to piss off mommy and daddy on the crew. You should have consulted me about this!”

Geoff scoffed. “What, like you consulted me about black-blue-and-blonde down there on the stairs?”

“I was planning on asking you first at least! You could have the courtesy to do the same!” Gus shouted.

“This is me asking; can Jeremy join the team?”

“No,” Gus intoned, arms folded over his chest.

“And this is me overruling you, Jeremy, welcome to the team, buddy!” Geoff replied cheerfully, pushing Jeremy into the room.

“You are insufferable.”

“Oh, you love it,” said Geoff, taking a seat in one of the office chairs. “So whose the girl downstairs eh? She looks like she got her shit kicked in.”

“Her name is Kerry Shawcross. She’s a paramedic. She and a couple other medical professional in LS run an illegal drug and script ring in the Hills. Gangs have been moving in on their territory, and her people don’t have the manpower to fight back. The gangsters have been putting the beatdown on anyone else trying to sell.”

“This the LS² gang?” Michael asked.

Gus nodded. “They’re real sonsabitches. Kerry got herself jumped by one of them two nights ago. She wasn’t even in their newly claimed “territory” at the time; she was just walking home when they spotted her. She got us the box truck, and she’s happy to drive for us, all we gotta do is scare some gangsters out of their turf once the heisting is all done. What’d you say?”

Geoff leaned back in his chair. “I was kinda hoping to lay low once all of this is over… not start a fucking gang war.”

“It’s hardly a gang war. The LS² got the guns and the numbers her people don’t. After Michael and Gavin’s adventures with them the other day, I hardly think scaring them off will be an issue for us, right?”

“Ugh. Fine. Honestly the sooner we get this shit over with the better. Can someone go grab her so we can start planning already?”

Gavin disappeared out the door and returned a few moments later with Kerry.

“You sure you can drive with that arm?” Geoff asked, nodding towards her sling.

“It’s a mild sprain. I’m just resting it up. I promise I’ll be good to go whenever you’re ready.” She replied with a smile. “Thanks for bringing me aboard. I’ll do my best.”

“Sure,” Geoff sighed. “Alright, so what else do we need to do before we pop this place and how long do we need to do it?”

“First, lets recap the plan for the newcomers,” Gus said. He quickly gave Kerry and Jeremy the play by play of the job and the escape plan. They seemed to get the picture quickly enough. At least Geoff hoped they did.

Finally, Gus stepped over to his whiteboard. “So…now that we’ve covered that, the soonest we can move is tomorrow, ideally we want to be grabbing the jewels during the first LSPD shift change, at 2pm. That’ll delay response times just a bit, giving us an advantage. If we wanna do this by then you’ll all have some homework you’ll have to get done by tonight. Think you can handle that?”

“What kind of homework?” Michael asked, eyes narrowing.

“Jeremy needs to get the bikes and bring them to Kerry’s truck. She’ll have it waiting here in the back lot for you. Jeremy and I can plan the escape route through the tunnels. I might have to send him in to make sure everything is clear in there, though. That a problem?” He asked challengingly, staring Jeremy down.

“Nope, no problem at all! I love tunnels!” he replied easily.

Gus scowled and Geoff found himself stifling a laugh. Overly cheery people had always grinded on Gus’s gears.

“Ray and Kerry will ride in the front seat of the box truck, with Jeremy and the bikes in the back. Ray, you’ll have to prepare and set up your own stuff. You good with that?”

Ray nodded.

“Good. Michael, Geoff and Gavin will be posing as the Bugstars employees. We’ve got your jumpsuits and gas masks all ready for you in the van. You just need to make sure you’ve got your guns, ammo and any body armor you need for your escape. Get yourselves some heavy-duty duffle bags too. Don’t want the jewels spilling out all over the highway.”

"Everyone know what they're doing?" asked Geoff.

They all nodded.

"Good. Get your shit together and let's meet here tomorrow around... say... 11am. That'll give us plenty of time to go over everything one more time and plan for any last minute adjustments. Make sure you all have each other's numbers. Keep your phones ready and contact Gus or I if you run into any problems. Questions?" He finished, glancing around the room at each of them.

"Sounds good Geoff," said Gavin, giving him a thumbs up. The rest of the crew nodded in response.

"Well all fucking right. And make sure to get some sleep tonight. Michael and Gavin, you're still welcome to crash at mine. Ray can you catch a ride with one of these idiots?" Geoff asked, gesturing towards Jeremy and Kerry

"I'm letting him sleep on the couch here tonight, we're gonna go over their security system a few more times'" Gus said.

"Yeah, I'll be good, thanks man," Ray replied.

Geoff nodded. "Okay then I'm gonna head off – I hid my car out in the fucking desert and I better pick it up. You two nerds have fun. And remember everybody, this time tomorrow; we'll either be dead or a few million dollars richer. Night assholes!"

 

* * *

_The next day_

 

“Well ladies and gentlemen,” Geoff said, strolling into the garment factory office in his red Bugstars jumpsuit. “It looks like a beautiful day for heisting!”

Michael and Gavin trailed in behind him, suited up in their uniforms as well. Jeremy, Kerry and Ray were all wearing nondescript clothing in dark colors.

Geoff couldn’t help but feel impressed with his new crew and everything they had accomplished over the last 48 hours. Kerry had helped Ray get his stuff setup perfectly in the box truck. Michael had bought body armor and bullets for everyone, passing out the extras guns he had stolen from the LS². Gus had fitted them all with mics and earpieces like the one he had setup for Geoff and Jeremy had laid out an escape route through the tunnels and had gone over it with them more times than he could count.

They had discussed the plan a hundred times. It felt like they were finally ready.

It was now or never.

“Alright everybody,” Geoff said, addressing the room. “Now, we all know why we’re here. We’ve got a store to take. The plan, is simple, one might even say… elegant. Listen to me and Gus over your earpieces. Try to keep excess chatter to a minimum, and if you see something, say something. Things go well, we all make a quick buck and go home in one piece. Things go bad – you know the drill. This wasn’t organized, we don’t know each other, we got caught up in a robbery and acted in self-defense, yadda-yadda-yadda.”

“The alarm system is easy,” Gus spoke up from where he was standing near the doorway. “I could have it offline myself if I didn’t need to be running things from here. Ray should get us a decent window, but when he tells you to get out, you listen. One extra jewel case isn’t gonna be worth getting busted, got it?”

Everyone nodded.

“If you run into trouble or get separated, you’ll need to find a way to get yourself out, that goes double for those of us on the bikes,” said Geoff, nodding towards Michael, Gavin and Jeremy. “Be smart, follow Jeremy and we should be just fucking fine. Alright, if that’s it, lets get this show on the goddamn road people!”

They all stood up, a heavy silence filling the room.

This was it.

Jeremy, Kerry and Ray headed off down the stairs, followed shortly by Michael and then Gavin. Geoff lingered in the doorway for a moment.

“Godspeed,” Gus said gravely, giving a mock salute.

“Shut the fuck up,” Geoff replied with a wry grin before following them out.

 

* * *

 

“Alright,” Gus said, his voice coming in over their earpieces. “Seems like everyone is close to being ready. Why don’t you all state your positions?”

“Michael, Gavin and I outside the store and ready to go whenever you guys are,” Geoff said into his microphone. They were parked just outside of Vangelico, waiting on the others. “What about you guys?”

“On the roof, ready to lob this thing into the vents on your signal. I’ll climb down and help Kerry move the bikes out of the truck as soon as you’re in,” Jeremy replied.

“We’re parked and ready to go,” Kerry responded.

“Yup, all good over here, waiting on your signal Geoff,” added Ray.

“It’s 2 o’clock now. The shift change has started, lets do this,” said Gus.

Geoff turned, nodding to Michael and Gavin. They exited the Bugstars van and went to the back, grabbing their gas masks and slinging their duffle bags over their shoulders.

“Gas masks on. Ray, on one, two, three, go!” Geoff cried.

“Cameras and security systems are down!” Ray responded a moment later. “Jeremy, get the gas!”

“Got it!”

They waited.

“Michael, see anyone dropping in there?” Geoff asked.

Michael peered around the Bugstars van doors. “Nope, everyone is still standing, Jeremy? Did you fucking throw it or not?”

“I missed!” Jeremy said with alarm. “Trying again, hold on…”

“Fuck,” Geoff growled. “Hurry it up!”

A few second later they heard Jeremy’s triumphant “Got it!” come through their earpieces.

It didn’t take long for the customers and employees inside the store to start swaying, before toppling over heavily onto the ground.

“Get in there!” Gus shouted, his voice crackling in their ears.

Grabbing their guns from the back of the van, Gavin, Michael and Geoff stormed inside. They moved immediately towards the center case where the most expensive jewels were kept. Geoff brought the end of his gun down hard on the corner of glass, shattering it into pieces. He scooped up the glimmering necklaces and bracelets and shoved them into his duffle. Michael and Gavin followed suit, smashing their own cases and shoving piles of precious gems inside.

“What kind of time can you get us Ray?” he asked into the mic, his voice slightly muffled by the gas mask.

“You’ve got about a minute and thirty seconds before the alarm resets,” Ray answered, sounding remarkably calm on the other end.

“90 seconds? Not bad at all. Way to earn your paycheck buddy! With a window like this we should be able to strip the joint! Lets go boys!”

“Center cases are empty, get the sides!” Gavin shouted. They moved towards the outer cases, rotating clockwise and scooping up everything they could.

“50 seconds,” Ray counted down.

“Kerry, Jeremy, how you guys coming out there?”

“Almost got all the bikes!” Kerry said. “No one’s noticed anything yet!”

“Good work!” Geoff moved to the back of the store, going for the least expensive jewelry.

“20 seconds!” Ray warned. “Time to start wrapping up!”

“All done, I’m waiting by the bikes!” called Jeremy.

Gavin and Michael had stopped to pry wallets and watches off the sleeping employees and customers.

“10 seconds!”

Geoff glanced once more around the store. “They’re outta stones, lets hit the road! Gav, Michael, get your asses in gear!”

Suddenly a commotion sounded over the coms. Geoff could hear Jeremy swearing and the muffled sound of an unfamiliar voice.

Geoff darted out the door into the bright afternoon sunshine, noticing that Jeremy was not alone.

A police officer was hassling him, yelling at him to move the bikes out of the road. Though most of his face was hidden beneath the bandana he was using to hide his identity, Jeremy’s eyes widened in panic as Geoff and the others approached. As Geoff exited the building, the officer turned, eyes flicking to the duffle bags slung over their shoulders and then the guns in their hands.

“What the?” the cop exclaimed, drawing his own weapon and pointing it at Geoff. “Get down on gr-”

Geoff leapt into action, grabbing the officer by the shoulders, intending to toss him to the ground and out of the way. He heard the guy’s gun go off, narrowly missing his abdomen. The cop was strong, and Geoff was struggling to keep him from firing his gun again.

“A little fucking help here!” he called to the others.

Before they could do anything, he heard a sudden, light snapping sound and then the officer was a dead weight being thrown back into his arms. He thought the man was still attacking him for a moment, so he landed a swift kick to the guy’s nuts before shoving him aside.

“Geoff what the fuck? Are you okay?” Michael asked, startled.

Glancing down at the cop, now sprawled awkwardly on the sidewalk, he saw that the man was dead - a bullet lodged firmly in his forehead.

“Holy shit! He’s dead as dicks dude! That was amazing!” Geoff exclaimed, slightly louder than he intended, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in his throat. He couldn’t believe he was still alive.

“Guys there’s someone on the roof!” Gavin exclaimed, pointing up at the building across the street from Vangelico.

Geoff glanced up just in time to see a dark figure, slinging what looked to be a sniper rifle over his shoulder before quickly and quietly disappearing.

The alarms in the store started going off.

“What the hell is going on over there?” Gus cried into their earpieces. “You need to go!”

“Move it or lose it guys!” Ray’s voice came over the coms. “Security system is back up and the cops are coming. Kerry and I are heading for the exit point!”

“Gavin’s right, there was someone fucking up there, I don’t-” Geoff started.

“Guys!” Jeremy cried, interrupting them. “We need to fucking move. Now!”

They heard the distant whine of police sirens drawing nearer.

“Okay, worry about that shit later,” Geoff said, hopping on to a bike. “Lets fucking go!”

Michael and Gavin leapt onto their own bikes, making sure their duffle bags full of jewels were secure.

Jeremy peeled out, leading them down the busy streets. Michael and Gavin kept to the middle together while Geoff brought up the rear, keeping an eye on the two least experienced with bikes.

“Hard left up ahead!” Jeremy called into the mic. “Going onto the big road, Dorset Drive!”

“Lets fucking do this!” Michael whooped.

“Police are getting closer!” called Gavin, voice high.

Geoff didn’t look back, but he could hear the sirens drawing nearer. “Don’t panic, focus on driving.” He was trying to sound calm, even if his heart was thundering a mile a minute in his chest.

Geoff heard the police firing off rounds from behind him. He drew his pistol and shot at the closest cruiser. He knew chances were they wouldn’t be able to land any decent shots at the speed they were going, but at least the police would think twice about trying to drive too close.

“Fuck, they’re trying to cut us off up ahead. Uhh… change of plans, we’re going right and dropping off the bridge onto the freeway so… gird your loins I guess!” Jeremy called.

He watched as Jeremy swerved to avoid the police roadblock, Gavin and Michael followed suit, both narrowly avoiding skidding out. Geoff accelerated, tightening his grip on the bike as he drove towards the jump off point. He landed smoothly and pushed forward.

“The entrance into the tunnels is up ahead on the right under the overpass, don’t miss it! It’s kinda narrow in there so go single file!” advised Jeremy.

“Shit, my bike is fucking spazzing out!” cried Michael from up ahead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Geoff heard the sound of a crash and pained yelp. He could see Michael had skidded into the wall next to the tunnel entrance. His bike was utterly totaled and he was lying in a heap on the asphalt.

“Michael!” Gavin called. He had brought his bike to a halt beside the tunnel entrance.

“Don’t fucking stop, idiot, go!” Michael screamed through clenched teeth.

“No way I’m leaving you, boi!” Gavin leapt off his own bike, scooping up Michael’s duffle bag and then dragging Michael onto his own bike.

Geoff whizzed by them, half tempted to scream at them for stopping and wasting time. “Fucking catch up assholes!” he called instead.

Gavin brought his own bike back up to speed, Michael leaning heavily onto his back, obviously too hurt to care.

“Got the money?” Geoff asked him over the coms.

“Got it,” Gavin replied tersely. “Both bags.”

“Don’t pull any more stupid shit like that again,” Geoff growled.

“I couldn’t just leave him!”

“Sorry Geoff,” Michael muttered, wincing. “My bad.”

Geoff sighed. “Just concentrate on making it out of here. And don’t pass out.”

“Everybody alright back there?” called Jeremy. “The comms don’t work great in these tunnels, so we wont be able to talk to the others for a bit and we might lose connection with Gus entirely since he’s farther away. So stay close to me. The tunnel diverges up ahead, stick to the left and watch out for the mud. The bikes should be able to handle it but be careful, no more wipeouts!”

“Good call on these bikes Jeremy!” Geoff shouted, following him deeper into the tunnels.

“I studied the route and I know the terrain. A Sanchez was really the only way to go!” Jeremy responded, sounding pleased.

They tore through the darkness of the tunnels, through the mud and then over subway tracks. Geoff knew his way around a bike, but the closer quarters and low light of the tunnels was making him nervous. Michael and Gavin were doing their best to keep up, taking a couple of dangerously close turns.

Jeremy drove smoothly with easy confidence. “Don’t follow the tracks! Taking a sharp left up these ramps! Then down the corridor into the sewer!”

“The sewers? We’re going into the bloody sewers?” Gavin whined, sounding faintly ill.

“Sure are!” was Jeremy’s rather cheerful response. “Oh and careful, drop coming up ahead.”

Jeremy plunged out of sight up ahead, his disappearance followed by a “plunk” and then a splashing noise as he shot forward through the shallow water pooling in the sewer tunnels. “Take the gate on the left, and another left once you go through it. We’re gonna start ascending after this, nearly outta the tunnels now boys! Our comms should be coming back on now!”

“Kerry, Ray!” Geoff called into his mic. “You in position?”

“Almost!” came Kerry’s somewhat crackling response. “But uh, it looks like the police know where you guys are coming out in the river – we’re here to help – but get ready for a warm welcome!”

“Fuck me,” Geoff moaned.

“Maybe later Geoff,” Ray said, speaking into his own mic. “But for now, suns out guns out!”

“Daylight!” Michael said faintly, sounding woozy.

They pulled out into the open air, immediately greeted with the sight of the shining sun, the clouds drifting lazily overhead, and four waiting police cruisers, sirens blaring.

“Choo choo!” Kerry called. “We’re here bitches!”

Geoff watch as Kerry pulled into the canal, blasting past two cop cars in her box truck.

“Try to pull ahead!” Geoff called to the guys on the motorcycles. He saw Jeremy zip off, Gavin and Michael’s bike following close behind.

Kerry slammed her truck into another cop, making way for Geoff to zoom by. “Hang in there guys! I got bullbars on this baby, should be able to make short work of the cops!”

“They’ve got a roadblock up ahead, cut across to the other side of the river!” cried Ray.

They sped through the low water of the canal to the other side. Geoff could hear Kerry smashing cars left and right behind him.

“Fuck, more cops incoming!”

“Y’know I should really charge more for getting involved in police chases,” said Ray.

“We can talk about your salary after we live though this asshole!” Geoff responded, narrowly avoiding a cop car that was pulling out of a tunnel.

He saw Gavin driving up the sloped side of the canal to keep out of reach of another cop car. The car turned to follow him up the slope, but the one following Geoff wasn’t able to avoid crashing into the other cruiser.

“Nice one!” cried Gavin. “Looks like Kerry’s pulled ahead of the pack, we should get the bikes in the truck while we bloody can!”

Kerry brought the truck to a quick halt near the ramp leading out of the canals. Hastily, they drove their bikes into the back, drawing the door shut behind them.

“We’re in, go, go, go!” Geoff cried, pounding his fist on the walls of the truck.

“Gotcha!” Kerry shouted. She pulled out of the canals and onto Carson Avenue. “I’m gonna loop around for a bit, to make sure we’ve lost them, then I’ll take us back to Gus’s lockup!”

“Sounds good,” said Geoff. He hopped off his bike and turned to Gavin and Michael. “Michael, how you doing buddy?”

“Fucking swell,” Michael responded with a groan. “Get me off this thing.”

Gavin and Jeremy helped him off the bike, gently lowering him to floor of the truck.

“Anything broken?” Geoff asked, sitting beside him.

“Just my fucking pride and maybe a rib or two. I ate shit back there, huh?”

Gavin chuckled. “Just a bit. Least we got the money!”

“Yeah, thank god.” Michael touched the strap to the duffle bag, as if to reassure himself of its presence. “Did we really just get away with that shit?”

“Seems like it!” Jeremy said merrily. “My ass is killing me, I thought I was gonna be stuck to that bike!”

“I thought you were gonna be stuck under a fucking cop car, dude,” Geoff replied. “But you did well, got us through that shitstorm like a pro. Nice work. That goes to all of you little shits, minor hiccups aside, we made it.”

“Hell yeah! Looks like we cleared the heat,” Kerry shouted from the front. “I’ll take us to Gus’s lockup!”

“Would now be a bad time to mention that I think I shit my pants?” Ray asked suddenly.

Geoff burst out laughing. “What the fuck Ray?”

“Ray you’ve got bowel problems, that’s the second time since we’ve met!” Gavin cried gleefully, giggling.

“No seriously, can we pull over, it’s starting to smell.”

“Sick dude!” Kerry shouted. There was a sound of a scuffle from the front, as if she were trying to get away from him.

“Help a bro out Kerry!”

“Noo, fuck off!”

“You guys are fucking crazy,” Jeremy said with a grin, pausing for a moment, as if considering. “I love it.”

 

* * *

 

Gus waved them into the lockup on Dutch London Street. Kerry brought the truck to a park inside a small building and Gus pulled down a tarp to cover the entrance. They all hopped out of the truck, Gavin lending Michael his shoulder.

“One, two, three, four, five… six,” counted Gus as they all gathered around him. “Well, you’re all alive, and it looks like you’ve got the money, so… successful heist?”

Geoff nodded. “Minus Jeremy almost getting got by the police, Michael wiping out on his bike and the fucking sniper on the roof in front of Vangelico, then yeah, successful fucking heist.”

“Sniper?” Gus asked, confused. “Someone was sniping you?”

“Nah, unless he’s crap at his job,” Gavin replied, approaching with Michael. “He took out the cop that was trying to kill Geoff!”

“Hmm, so you’ve got a friendly sniper looking out for you? Interesting. I’ll have to look into this,” said Gus, looking thoughtful.

Ray stepped forward. “I can help. The cameras started recording again right around that time. I deleted the data from their servers, but I saved a copy for us too, might catch him on film.”

Gus nodded thoughtful towards Ray. “Excellent. In the meantime, I’ll take the gems and wire your cuts when the rocks have been sold. I found someone who can get us 50 cents on the dollar, that’s pretty damn good for stolen gems, so you should all have a little spending money left over.”

“So what now?” Ray asked.

“Change out of our clothes and go our separate ways for now, Gavin and Jeremy set up three cars in back for us, we head off in pairs and keep our heads down.”

“I should take Michael with me, I’ve got medical supplies at my place, I can patch him up,” said Kerry.

Geoff had almost forgotten that Kerry worked as a paramedic. “Alright, good idea, Gav you’re with me, Jeremy, you can drive Ray home. Lets all lay low for a couple a days and then meet up at my place once the heat has died down. Sound good?”

They all nodded and made sounds of agreement before shuffling off.

“Gus, you need a ride?” Geoff asked once the others had driven off and Gavin had stepped away to call and check up on Dan.

“Nope, I’ve got my car. I’ll head home and take stock of the gems ASAP. I can wire your cut directly to Dragovic if you like.”

Geoff winced slightly at the sound of his name. “Yeah, that’d be good. Think we have enough of a take there? We pretty much cleared the whole fucking store.”

Gus hefted the bags up in hands. “Oh yeah, with plenty left over to give a sizable cut to your new crew. Once they get a taste of this kind of cash, I don’t think they’ll want it to be over.”

“I don’t know, today was pretty fucking harrowing for some of them, me included. Might just call it a day with this heist.”

Gus shook his head. “I know you Geoff. You live for this shit. Those guys live for it too, or else they wouldn’t be here. As much as I hate to admit it – you guys have potential to really _be_ something here. You shouldn’t throw that away. This city is filled to the fucking brim with scumbags, and I mean _real_ scumbags who use and abuse people like its nothing. You might be a bunch of criminal thieves, but you’ve got some fucking character at least. Maybe it’s time for a change in the criminal underworld of Los Santos. Maybe _you_ could be that change.”

“I don’t –”

Gus threw his hands up. “Look, just think about it okay? I’m heading off. I’ll give you a call when I’ve sold the gems and see what Ray and I can dig up on our mysterious sniper friend. See you.”

Geoff watched Gus get into his car and peel out. The other man’s words were still ringing in his head. It had been a long time since his life had seemed so full of _possibilities_.

Gavin stepped up beside him, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “Dan’s a bit mingy with me, but he’ll get over it. He's even got a new bird he's been having over, cheeky bastard. Mind if I crash at yours again?”

“Sure thing,” Geoff said blankly, still staring at the place where Gus had driven out.

“You alright there? Ready to go?” Gavin asked.

“Yeah,” Geoff said, placing a hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “I’m ready.”

 

* * *

 

A few days later the crew along with Gus had all gathered together at Geoff’s house, to watch the Weazel news report on the heist.

“This is Malinda Manchester with more news on the Rockford Hills jewelry store robbery! The criminals are believed to have escaped with millions of dollars worth of gems, precious stones and engagement rings. The police have turned up two new leads in their investigation into the recent robbery of the Vangelico jewelers in Rockford Hills. They believe the crime was tied to an attack on a Humane Labs Research shipment carrying BZ gas. Police also believe the van used by the robbers was recently stolen from a Bugstars Pest Control warehouse in south Los Santos. Brand new for you today we have an exclusive interview with an eyewitness who saw the criminals brutally shoot down police officer Carson Ford. Over to you Malcolm.”

The camera view switched to a male reporter standing with an elegantly dressed woman wearing glasses, her brown hair tied up in an elaborate chignon.

“Tabitha Masters had a close run in with the thieves when she called the police to report a suspicious man moving bikes out of a truck outside the Vangelico store, isn’t that right Ms. Masters?”

“That’s right. I was window-shopping a few stores down when I noticed him. I thought it was awfully suspicious for a man to be parking those off-road type bikes outside a jewelry store, so I did my civic duty and called the police to report it,” she said in a soft, southern drawl, sniffling rather dramatically. “I had no way of knowing that poor officer who came to investigate would be killed!”

“Of course,” the reporter said sympathetically. “Can you tell us what happened next?”

“While the officer was shouting up a storm at the man with the bikes, a bunch of men with guns came storming out of the place. I was lucky I was far enough away that they didn’t spot me. I’m sure I wouldn’t be standing here today if they had! Anyway... I think one of the thieves grabbed the officer and just started wrestling with him! They were really going at each other, the officer had to fire his gun to defend himself! And… and then…” She took a shaky breath, wiping her eyes.

“And then?” the reporter urged her.

“And then… just like that, he was dead.”

“Officer Ford?”

She nodded. “Yes. The thieves had a man up on the roof. He must have been watching the place for them. He shot the officer dead, right here…” She pointed her finger at her forehead.

“Shocking and tragic. Is there anything else you remember Ms. Masters?” the reporter asked.

She sniffed. “I heard one of the thieves shouting, after they had killed Officer Ford. It was terrible, they were oh so cavalier about it all, taking the life of a fellow human being, as if those monsters could even be called human.”

“What did he say?”

“He said - and excuse my French here, darling, “ _Holy shit! He’s dead as dicks dude! That was amazing!_ ” and then he started laughing, like it was the funniest thing in the world. It was so… ghastly. I’ll never forget it.”

“Truly horrifying, Ms. Masters, thank you so much for telling your story. We'll be sure to stay with this story as it unfolds,” the reporter said, turning back to face the camera. “Back to you in the studio.”

Geoff flicked the remote at the TV, turning it off.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighed.

“That sniper guy wasn’t even fucking with us!” Michael shouted towards the TV, gesturing angrily. “Who is that dumb bitch, I’ll fucking kill her.”

“Michael, sit down, you’re not fully healed yet,” Kerry instructed in exasperation.

“Fuck off Kerry, I’m fine!” he grumbled, but sat back down all the same.

Geoff turned to Ray and Gus. “I’m assuming you guys figured something out about the sniper?”

Gus nodded, looking rather grim. “Ray, grab the laptop.”

Ray stood up and pulled his laptop from his bag, hooking it up to play a video through Geoff’s projector.

“Check this out,” he said, pressing play on the video.

They watched as the security camera feed showed a figure dressed all in black kneeling on the rooftops across from Vangelico with a sniper rifle. The camera had caught him after he had fired, remaining on him long enough to see him pack up and slip quietly out of sight.

"There’s our sniper,” Ray said. “Now zooming in…”

He zoomed in on the sniper’s face, or rather… his mask.

The guy was wearing a dark, very creepy skull-shaped mask.

“Ho-ly shit,” Michael said immediately.

“Wow!” Kerry exclaimed in a hushed whisper.

“Fuck,” Jeremy moaned.

“Damn, is that?” Gavin asked.

Gus nodded. “It is. The Vagabond.”

“The who?” Geoff asked.

“Christ Geoff, how do you not know anything?” Gavin shouted. “You know, the effing Vagabond, the master assassin who’s killed like a billion people all over the damn world?"

“Never heard of him.” Geoff shrugged.

“It’s cool Geoff, I hadn’t heard of him either until Gus filled me in. But it sounds like the guys no joke, and if he has his eyes on us, we’re in trouble,” Ray replied.

Geoff stood up and paced over to the whiskey he had sitting on his kitchen counter. He took a quick swig and walked back over, passing the bottle to Michael, who followed suit.

“I don’t get it, seems like the dude was helping us out. He sure as shit saved my bacon while you guys were standing there with your thumbs up your asses,” Geoff said, gesturing to Gavin and the others.

“The thing is,” Gus responded, glancing up at the still image of the Vagabond on the projector screen. “I don’t think he was.”

“How so?”

Gus ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. “The death of that cop means the police force is gonna be gunning for us even harder than normal. That news report with the crying lady isn’t going to help either, especially since they think the guy was with us. Ray was able to delete the footage the cameras captured of us from the servers, but he also deleted the footage of the Vagabond. So no one but us knows that he’s not actually one of us.”

“But why would the damn Vagabond want to screw us over? I mean, this is our first, maybe only job together,” Gavin said, glancing over at Geoff. “He’s got no reason to mess with us!”

“Unless he’s working for…” Gus stopped off, now staring at Geoff too.

He supposed both Gavin and Gus had worked out that the Vagabond’s interest in him might have something to do with Dragovic, but neither wanted to say anything in front of the others, who knew nothing about his run ins with the mobster.

They had all proven themselves in their own ways. Michael with his fierce and sudden loyalty, Ray with his intelligence and ingenuity, Jeremy with his dedication, Kerry with her daring – maybe it was time to lay all the cards on the table.

“Here’s the thing guys,” Geoff said, quietly and seriously enough that they all perked up, watching him carefully.

“Gavin and Gus already know this, and the only reason I didn’t tell the rest of you was cause I didn’t know where all this was going. But I can’t help but feel like it’s going fucking _somewhere_ , with how well we all worked together, so here it goes. I didn’t form this crew for shits and giggles. I needed money, big money, to pay off a mobster who I sort of inadvertently fucked with.”

“Which mobster?” Jeremy asked quietly.

“Anton Dragovic,” Geoff replied, watching as the others winced in horror and sympathy.

“Shit dude,” Michael said. “What did you do?”

“I may have… sort of… pulled down his house. Or maybe it was his girlfriend’s? Daughter’s? I don’t fucking know. My wife cheated on me with some fucking yoga teacher douchebag who ran off and hid in this big house on a cliff. I thought the house belonged to him, so I pulled it down with my truck.”

“I helped,” piped Gavin with a slight smirk.

“As it turns out, the house didn’t belong to him, it belonged to Dragovic, so he hunted Gavin and I down, held us at gun point and told us to pay up for the rebuild if we didn’t want to end up six feet under.”

“Holy shit,” Kerry said. “Heavy stuff.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Geoff sighed. “So I dunno. This fucking Vagabond shit has me stumped. Maybe Dragovic hired him to fuck with us, like some kind of test? See what we’re made of?”

“Seems like a pretty fucked up test if you ask me,” said Michael. “I mean, killing that cop just put more heat on us. We could’ve gotten caught and then he’d be out a few million dollars.”

“Or maybe he really was trying to help?” Kerry asked, almost hopefully. “Maybe Dragovic hired the Vagabond to make sure the heist went okay. He saw Geoff struggling with that cop, so he shot him to make sure we all made it out.”

“Dragovic is not that nice,” said Gus gruffly. “And the Vagabond is an awfully expensive hitman to hire to play bodyguard to some small time crew… no, something fucking fishing is going on here, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it. Don’t any of you go snooping around without my say so. The Vagabond doesn’t play around, and I have no doubt that he will take you out if he thinks your trying to dig shit up on him.”

Gus stood suddenly, clapping his hands together. “But enough of that! I’d like to announce that the gems have been sold and your cuts have been officially wired to your bank accounts. Geoff, I already sent Dragovic his money and there was plenty left over for you to replenish your savings and then some. The rest of you, don’t spend it all in one place.”

Geoff couldn’t help but smile. “We did it boys and girls!”

Michael stood, downing another gulp of whiskey. “Fucking payday!” he whooped.

Gavin pulled out his phone, opening his bank statement. “Damn, I’ve never had cash like this before! Top!”

“Please for the love of god, use it to buy a better car,” Ray said, looking over his shoulder.

“Nahh, first thing I’m gonna do is take Dan for bevs. Then maybe I’ll get a lovely massage. Ray, first thing you should do is get yourself some damn driving lessons. What if we get into a rough spot next time and we need you behind the wheel?”

“So there’s gonna be next time, then?” Ray asked.

The room went quiet, they all turned to watch Geoff.

“Well, do you guys want there to be a next time?” Geoff asked, looking back, trying to gauge their reactions. They were silent for a moment, considering.

“Fuck yeah I do,” Michael cried, breaking the silence. “If we’re pulling in this kinda money, who could say no to that?”

“I’m in,” Ray agreed. “Papa needs a new pair of shoes.”

“Yeah, I’m up to my eyeballs in student loan debt, and this definitely does not hurt,” said Kerry, glancing at her phone.

Jeremy nodded happily. “I’m down!”

Geoff turned to look at you. “What about you, Gav?”

Gavin grinned. “I’ve been in since day one, Geoffy. Not gonna sod off now am I? But do you really wanna stick with us rookies, Geoff? You’re a rich man now, you could hire real pros and all that.”

Geoff shrugged, smiling too. “Well, you know what they say - better the devils you know than the ones you don't. So... I guess I’m with you idiots.”

            

* * *

  

Far away from the glimmering city of Los Santos, there was a small, desert town on the Alamo Sea. Most people liked to pretend that the rundown little town of Sandy Shores didn’t exist. It was populated almost entirely by druggies, rednecks, biker gangs and a whole lot of coyotes. The people were poor as dirt, the sun was hot as hell and locals were rarely ever friendly, but when the sun dipped low over the mountains, lighting up the world with a pink and gold glow, _damn_ , was it pretty.

More than anything, it was home to one Jack Pattillo. She was currently engaged in the most benignly normal thing she had done all day – watching the evening news and eating a TV dinner.

The reception was shit out in the desert, but the TV flickered to life. It was the Weazel news broadcast of the robbery in Los Santos everyone was buzzing about. She had hardly paid attention to it. Now it was showing some witness being interviewed by a reporter. Jack picked at her food, just barely listening.

“He said - and excuse my French here, darling, “ _Holy shit! He’s dead as dicks dude! That was amazing!_ ” and then he started laughing, like it was the funniest thing in the world. It was so… ghastly. I’ll never forget it.”

Jack froze, glancing up.

Those _words._

The words of the supposed thief - it had been a long fucking time since she had heard anyone talk like that. No one she knew had ever used that stupid fucking phrase before.

No one but _him_.

She stood up, tossing her dinner aside, pacing the floor. Fuck.

She went to the front door. The door of the small, modest house she had built with her own two hands.

_“Hey you gonna build us nice house someday? All fancy with a green lawn and a white picket fence?”_

“Do I look like a white picket fence kinda girl to you?” she whispered.

“ _Come on, I bet you would love it! We’d get a big kitchen with a breakfast nook, a living room with one of those soft, squishy couches –”_

“Why are we living together in this scenario?”

_“Why wouldn’t we be? Come on Jack, you gotta admit, once we’re retired from all this, we’re gonna want a cozy place to settle down. It’ll be nice as dicks!”_

It had been the first time she’d heard him use that stupid, fucking phrase. The first, but definitely not the last.

Why, after all these years, was the ghost of Geoff fucking Fink coming to haunt her?

Jack stepped out into the evening air, breathing hard.

Joel, her neighbor and closest friend saw her standing on her porch, gripping the railings. He wandered over warily.

“Jack?” he called.

She looked over at him, eyes wide, face white.

“Jeez Jack, you look like you’ve seen a ghost…”

Slowly, she nodded.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I think I have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part One is done! I'll take a couple of days to finish editing and polishing Part Two and should have the next chapter up before the end of the week. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, I really appreciate it! Feel free to drop me a line or ask me anything on my tumblr too (also Noxren)
> 
> Chapter Song Title:  
> Wanted Dead Or Alive by Bon Jovi (GTA 4)


	6. Ready Or Not Here I Come

** The Devils You Know **

 Part Two

Queen Of The Desert

Chapter Six

Ready Or Not Here I Come

 

How many miles had she traveled? How many bottles of booze had she downed? How many tears had she shed? How many years had she mourned?

All of it, _all of it_ had been to rid herself of that lingering ghost.

The ghost she left buried in a lonely Texas grave.

She hated how her heart raced at the thought of him being alive.

“Jack?” Joel had crossed into her yard. “Seriously, you’re kinda freaking me out here. Please tell me you didn’t see an actual goddamn ghost.”

Joel Heyman was a tall, broad-shoulder guy with perpetually messy black hair. He had the look of someone who was constantly riding on less than three hours of sleep and a hell of a lot of caffeine. He was Jack’s oldest and closest friend still living and one of the few people from the old days with her crew that she still kept in contact with.

“I don’t know…” she trailed off, squinting into the setting sun. “Give Adam a call for me, I want him to look something up.”

“Sure… is this related to the paranormal activity you’ve apparently got going on?”

“Possibly. We’ll see.”

Joel disappeared back into his house and Jack sat down on her porch, feeling drained. She had endured a long day of trying to secure a new gun and ammunitions supplier after her old one had moved on to “greener fucking pastures”.

Sandy Shores was crawling with hicks and MC members who wanted to be armed and dangerous, but they were small potatoes compared to the gangsters, mobsters and numerous crews clamoring for weapons in LS. When Jack’s last meth cook had moved on to the big city, she had stepped into his shoes herself, getting involved in drug manufacturing and cutting out the middle man. She didn’t use herself, but methamphetamine was Sandy Shore’s drug of choice, and dealing to the locals was just good fucking business.

Weapons manufacturing was an entirely different animal, something she couldn’t just pick up herself. With rival gangs circling her enterprise, she had to find a new supplier soon or risk getting thrown out of the game entirely. After hours of negotiating, she had finally gotten someone to meet with them. The gunrunner had made no promises, but she was flying into Sandy Shores that night and had agreed to discuss business with them come morning.

Jack wasn’t particularly optimistic; most people who did business in LS weren’t interested in dealing with anyone north of the Vinewood sign. Still, at least the gunrunner was giving them a shot.

Staring out at the dazzling sunset, Jack gave a heavy sigh. All she really wanted was a few less complications in life, but it just kept throwing her more.

A few minutes later, an ATV came tearing down Zancudo Avenue, tossing up a cloud of dust. Adam Ellis pulled up in front of her house, hopping off his ATV. Adam was a big, bearded guy who was even taller than Joel. He was intimidating enough to look at, but underneath his rough appearance was a good guy with a big heart.

“Hey Jack,” he greeted, walking over to her. “Joel called and told me you were going on about some ghost? That you wanted me to look something up?”

She nodded. “That’s right. This ghost I saw, his name is Geoffrey Fink. Sounds like he’s living in Los Santos. Find him.”

“Sure, I’ll do some digging.”

“Thanks, Adam. Do me a favor and keep this between me and you. Joel doesn’t need to know.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “Okay... can I ask why?”

“This guy, Geoff, Joel knew him once too, a long time ago. If it turns out he really is dead, I’d just be causing Joel undue pain by bringing his name up again. I don’t want to go stirring up old shit for no reason until I know for sure. Alright?”

“Yeah I get it. I’ll do some research and let you know once I find anything.”

“Fantastic. You wanna come in for a drink? I could sure as hell use one right about –” Jack stopped short as she heard the door to Joel’s trailer slam open.

Joel emerged from inside, looking panicked. He spotted Adam and jogged over. “We’ve got problems guys.”

Jack stood up. “What now?”

“I just got a pretty goddamn frantic call from arms dealer we were supposed to meet with tomorrow. She landed in the airfield all right, but she said there are a bunch a “redneck-looking-mullet-having-toothless-assholes” waiting for her to get out of the helicopter. Oh, and they have guns too,” Joel said slightly breathlessly.

“Goddamnit!” Jack swore. “That must be the fucking Flynt family! How the hell did those dumb redneck fuckers figure out we had a meeting with a supplier lined up? I’m assuming you guys didn’t say anything!”

She gestured towards Joel and Adam, who quickly shook their heads.

“Were you with anyone when you set up the meeting?” Adam asked. “Maybe someone overheard?”

“No I was… wait,” Jack said, considering. “I was in the lab, checking up on the new batch. I stepped outside cause I finally got a call back from the new supplier. One of the fucking cooks might have heard me talking on the phone. Some of them are new hires, they could have been paid off by those fucking Flynts.”

“If one of those little shits ratted, they’re dead,” said Joel definitively. “But for now, we gotta decide if we wanna help this girl out or not. Even if we go up against the Flynts for her, there’s no guarantee she’ll deal with us after that.”

Jack shook her head. “Even so, it’s my fault she’s even here to begin with. I’m not going leave her high and dry. We’re helping her. Let’s go boys.”

Joel and Adam retreated into Joel’s trailer to grab guns. Jack grabbed her favored double-barreled shotgun from where she kept it at the ready near her front door. She strapped a Hawk & Little Pistol to her waist and then slung her sniper rifle over her shoulder for good measure. The Flynts were a big fucking family after all, better to be safe than sorry.

“Taking the car or the truck?” Joel asked once she headed back outside again.

“Truck,” Jack replied. She walked past the shit-green Fusilade she usually reserved for business meetings or driving into the city and hopped in her big, red Canis Bodhi pickup truck.

Joel took the passengers seat and Adam leapt into the truck bed, clutching a heavy black assault rifle.

Jack revved the engine and peeled out onto the street, kicking up a line of dust. “Lets go kill ourselves some goddamn rednecks!”

 

* * *

 

The sun had dipped completely below the mountains once they arrived at the Sandy Shores airfield. Driving around the airstrip, they found the gunrunner’s chopper, the pilot dead inside, but she and the Flynts had already taken off.

“Fuck,” Jack swore, slamming her hand on the wheel. “I was hopping we could get to the them before they headed back to their fucking farm.”

“Guess we’ll have to take the fight to them,” Joel replied.

“Yeah, where they have the advantage…” Jack sighed and hit the gas. “Time to go to Grapeseed.”

The Flynt Family Ranch was located in the tiny farming town of Grapeseed, near the eastern tip of the Alamo Sea. Jack took the road into town, keeping an eye out for the sign that indicated the entrance to the ranch.

“There,” said Adam, pointing it out. “Turn left right here.”

Jack turned left over the bridge into the ranch, driving them down the long, desolate road. A few skinny dairy cows were wandering around in the fields, mooing mournfully. The Flynt family had become more known for cooking (and invariably smoking) crystal than dairy farming in recent years, and their ranch had become something of a run-down hovel as a result.

“Lets park the truck and climb those hills up there,” Joel suggested, pointing up at the rocky outcropping that overlooked the ranch.

“Good idea,” Jack replied. “Its dark enough that we’ll be pretty well hidden from the hills, but the farm is all lit up at night, so we’ll have a good vantage on them. I’m sure there are plenty of rednecks running around down there. Might as well take out as many as we can from a distance.”

They left the Bodhi at the edge of the outcropping and clambered up as quickly and quietly as they could manage.

Jack and Joel both had long-range rifles, while Adam only had his assault rifle. They positioned themselves at the highest point, looking out through their scopes at the ranch down below.

“Make sure no one sneaks up on us Adam,” Jack said in a whisper. “See any guys looking our way, let us know.”

“Yes ma’am,” Adam replied, gun at the ready.

Jack trained her sights on the old farmhouse, finding the upper balcony where a couple of shirtless hillbillies were patrolling. Down below, near the barn, a few other Flynt family members were shooting BBs at the scraggly barn cats.

“Lets get these idiots first,” she whispered to Joel.

Joel followed her line of sight down to the barn. “Got em. I got the ugly one of the right.”

“I’ve got little miss pigtails shooting at the cats,” Jack replied. “On three… one, two, three!”

She watched both her target and Joel’s topple over onto the dirt.

“Excellent,” said Joel, sounding pleased. “Check it out, two for one special up top, think you can nail ‘em both in one shot?”

Jack moved her scope back over to the balcony, seeing two Flynts talking by the door, one slightly in front of the other. She lined up their heads and fired, taking them both out. Joel followed suit with the last Flynt standing at the other end of the balcony.

“Ha!” Jack said triumphantly. “See anymore?”

“Got a couple of old dude’s rolling barrels around over by the truck,” Adam replied, pointing. “And there’s an old biddy with a shotgun guarding the porch. I think that’s it.”

Joel squinted through he scope, finding the targets Adam was pointing out. “I’ll get the lady on the porch, you grab the other two.”

“Going for the easier one, huh?” Jack teased.

“Please,” he scoffed. “Are you trying to get me to admit that you’re a better shot, cause that’s not gonna happen.”

“I think it just did,” Adam pointed out.

“Shut up dude!” Joel hissed.

“Don’t make me put you in a time out boys.”

Jack and Joel took out the last three targets just as two more Flynts appeared from behind one of the run down shed on the back of the property. They stumbled upon two of the dead Flynts sprawled out in the dirt and sounded the alarm, shouting for the others inside the house.

“Fuck! We better move. They’ll be searching for us now.” Jack slipped her rifle back over her shoulder and picked up her shotgun. “We should try to sneak in back while they’re looking for us. I’m sure they’ve got our gunrunner locked up inside somewhere. Who knows what those sick fucks will do to her to get what they want.”

“Alright, let’s move, we’re with you.” Joel grabbed Adam by the shoulder, following Jack down the slope of the hill.

It was dark enough that they were able to creep easily around the edge of the property. The Flynts were making such a ruckus with their shouting that they were even able to move without worrying about the sound of their footsteps drawing anyone’s attention. Jack found the backdoor, after listening outside it for a minute; she cautiously pulled it own, tiptoeing inside.

The Flynt Family Farmhouse was a complete shithole, that was for sure - from the water-stained ceiling, to the peeling paint and sunken floorboards. There were stained mattresses scattered around in every room of the house, the floors littered with garbage and dirty clothes.

The familiar cat-piss and paint-thinner smell of crystal meth seemed to float through every room of the house, but it was strongest once Jack found the entrance to the basement.

“Down we go,” she whispered.

Joel and Adam nodded, following her in. Right away they heard the voices of the two Flynts that had obviously been left to guard the lab. They were muttering anxiously to each other, wondering about what was going on upstairs.

Jack was happy to enlighten them.

Jack drew her knife, ready to quickly and quietly take out the Flynts and resume her rescue mission when she saw what was really going on. There were indeed two Flynts talking quietly in the corner of the room, but the real issue was the Flynt Family’s Matriarch, Momma Flynt, standing behind a cooking station near the back. The great bear of a woman had someone clutched in a chokehold, a pistol pushed against her temple.

The gunrunner.

The young woman was struggling inside Mamma Flynt’s iron grip, but she was just too strong. Mamma Flynt smiled at Jack as she stepped into the room, lowering her shotgun and knife to the ground and putting her hands up. The other two Flynt boys grinned crazily, pulling out guns of their own.

At least Adam and Joel had the foresight to stay quiet and out of sight at the top of the stairs.

“You must think we Flynts are dumber than a bag of rocks,” Mamma Flynt said triumphantly.

“It’s box, and yes I absolutely do,” Jack intoned, trying to keep it cool.

“I’d shut yer mouth, missy. I’m the one in charge here. One of my boys found your truck out there, figured you’d be coming inside the house for your girl here.” She shook the supplier in her arms. The other woman was keeping remarkably calm despite the circumstances.

“How very clever of you. Well, here I am. You’ve got my girl, let’s talk.”

“Talk! Ha! You wanna talk after all that you’ve done? You dun killed plenty of my kith and kin out there, and as you can imagine, I’m a might upset.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, you rednecks fuck like rabbits right? There’ll be plenty little Flyntlings running around the farm come spring, I’m sure.”

Mamma Flynt cackled. “You’re a wicked woman, Jack Pattillo. You can have your little jokes. Cause I’m gonna have everything else that you got. I’m taking your crystal operation, I’m taking your territory and now you’re gonna take me to your guns and ammo! This little lady here told me you’ve got your stuff stashed away somewhere secret. So let’s us head out on a little road trip together. Whatcha say?”

Jack glanced over at the gunrunner, who had clearly been telling whatever lies she could in order to stay alive. For some reason Mamma Flynt thought they had been working together for a while.

Either way, it worked in Jack’s favor.

“I’m impressed. You must have a man on the inside of my operation then? How else would you have known that me and my supplier were meeting today?”

Mamma Flynt smiled, gloating. “You bet your behind I do. You really ought to be more selective in your hiring process, Pattillo. Lil Cletus, second cousin on my Daddy’s side, heard your plans just this afternoon. I figured we’d pick your supplier up and figure out what she knew. So… why don’t we head on out to this secret stash of yours. Boys?”

Her two boys stepped forward, one of them grabbed Jack’s sniper rifle off her back, the other pushing her to turn around. Luckily they didn’t search her, or they would have found the pistol strapped into her hip holster.

Jack headed up the stairs, seeing that Joel and Adam were nowhere in sight. She hoped that by keeping Mamma Flynt distracted she had given them enough time to come up with a plan. As she reached the top of the stairs and stepped out, someone grabbed her by the arm and yanked her aside. She looked over just in time to see Adam kicking a barrel of cooking chemicals down the basement stairs.

Jack grabbed her pistol and moved back to the door, Joel falling in beside her. The barrel had easily knocked down the two boys, stopping at the turn in the steps, where Mamma Flynt was standing with the supplier.

Jack aimed her pistol at the barrel, grinning.

“Not too clever, trying to start a gunfight in a meth lab. Why don’t you send my girl up to me, and I’ll consider not frying you to a crisp.”

Mamma Flynt growled furiously, glancing at her two boys lying in moaning heaps on the stairs. Finally, she shoved the gunrunner up the stairs towards Jack.

The young woman ran up the stairs, Adam, Joel and Jack moving to stand in front of her.

“Thank you kindly,” Jack said, giving a mock bow.

“Now get the fuck out of my house,” Mamma Flynt hissed.

“I will,” Jack replied, moving her gun from where it was pointing at the barrel to Mamma Murphy’s forehead. “Just gonna do a little cleaning up first.”

She fired her gun and the matriarch crashed onto the ground with a resounding “THUD”.

Jack took a step down, silencing both of the injured brothers as well.

“You know,” Jack said, addressing their corpses. “It’s almost impossible to get barrels like these to explode with just a couple a bullets. I think I saw that on Myth-busters. So really, you had nothing to worry about. Guess you Flynts really are fucking stupid.”

She turned back to the others, smiling warmly. “You alright there?” she asked the supplier. “Sorry, my brains a little frazzled, I’ve already forgotten your name.”

The woman stepped forward. She was in her mid-twenties at the most, with pink and blonde hair and soft, pretty features. “I’m fine, and its Lindsay, Lindsay Tuggey,” she replied. “And can I just say, that was fucking awesome.”

 

* * *

 

Burning down the Flynt Farm was the most fun Jack had had in a long goddamn time. Adam, Joel and especially Lindsay were all happy to help once they had finished off the few Flynts who hadn’t fled the scene. After drenching the basement in gasoline and pouring a line through the whole house and back out the front porch, Jack took out a pack of matches she had looted off a dead Flynt.

“Who wants to do the honors?” she asked, glancing around at the others.

“You should definitely do it,” said Adam, looking towards Lindsay.

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. Jack tossed her the matches.

“Burn in hell you inbred fucks,” she said resolutely. She lit the match and tossed it into the line of gasoline.

They all backed up, watching as it caught fire. The flames spread, whooshing through the grass and up the stairs, onto the porch and into the house. The firelight glowed from within the dark house, illuminating the windows as the flames began to consume everything inside.

“You know, cool guys don’t look at explosions,” Joel said with teasing grin.

“Fuck that!” Jack replied. “I’m going to appreciate the fruits of my labor.”

The fire must have reached the volatile chemicals inside the lab in the basement, because a moment later the entire house exploded in a ball of black smoke and red flame. It didn’t take long for the blaze to consume the rickety wooden house. They watched the roof collapse in on itself, followed by the second story.

“Damn,” Lindsay whispered. “Not exactly the night I had planned for myself, but thrilling, nonetheless. We should probably hit the road right? Or are there no cops out here in the boonies?”

“There are cops aplenty, most are trigger-happy redneck fucks like these assholes. So yeah, lets head out. Hopefully they didn’t trash my truck.” Jack made off in the direction of the road.

Her truck was still safe, sound and undamaged in the place they had hidden it, so Adam and Joel hopped back into the truck bed while Lindsay climbed into the passenger’s seat.

“So,” Jack started once they were back on the road again. “I’ll take you back to your helicopter so you can grab your stuff. And uh… sorry about all that. I can assure you that most business meetings here in Sandy Shores don’t end with kidnapping, arson and murder.”

“I honestly wouldn’t know,” Lindsay replied, sounding mercifully relaxed. “I don’t come up this way all too often. Now I know why my mom used to avoid doing business up here though.”

“Your mom?”

“Yeah, she ran the show before me, gunrunning is sort of a family business. She passed away about a half a year ago and I’ve sort of taken the reigns.”

“I didn’t know that, I’m sorry to hear about your mom,” Jack said softly.

“Thanks,” Lindsay replied, smiling kindly. “It’s been a crazy couple of months. A lot of our old clients jumped ship once they heard about mom. She never really involved me much in the business until she started getting sick. She always wanted me to be a dentist.”

She gave a little laugh.

“Her clients trusted her enough, but a lot of them didn’t really know me enough to have any confidence in my ability to run things, so they basically bailed. So I’ve been scrambling to find some new clients to buy up the warehouse full of guns and ammo I’ve got back in LS.”

“Jeez, sounds like you’ve been having even worse of a time than I have,” Jack said sympathetically. “I realize I shouldn’t even be asking after what we just put you through, but if you’re still interested in selling to us crazy desert people, we’re still interested in buying.”

Lindsay smiled. “Yeah, I mean, if you’ve got the money, than I’ve got the stuff. I may not be my mom, but I’m a tough cookie, and I can handle myself.”

Jack nodded. “I can see that.”

“Great! Can we discuss stuff in the morning though? I kinda wanna get back to my motel so I can wash the smell of meth off me.”

“Yeah it does kinda cling to you. And I’d be happy to take you back after we swing by the airfield. The Eastern Motel right?” Jack asked.

“Yup. Shit. They killed my fucking pilot too, those _fucks_. I guess I gotta make some calls too.”

“I’ve got my license, I can fly you back into the city no problem.”

“Really?” Lindsay asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah I was in the air force for a hot minute, before they kicked me the fuck out. Not for a lack of flying skills, by the way,” Jack added.

“Well aren’t you a colorful character,” Lindsay said with a giggle. “Sure, sounds good. So we’re like best friends now right?”

Jack let out a hearty laugh. “Oh absolutely we are. I’m trading these two idiots in for you ASAP.”

“If you guys are quite finished,” piped Joel from the truck bed. “You’re about to miss your turn.”

“Thank you Joel,” Jack said in a singsong.

“You’re a diiiick,” Joel sang back.

“Run while you can,” Adam whispered to Lindsay conspiratorially. “It’s already too late for me!”

Lindsay laughed, the others following suit. It was the wild, slightly hysterical laughter of people who had just been through all kinds of hell together and had somehow made it out alive.

The madness of the night had been a surprisingly welcome distraction.

But still…

Jack couldn’t stop thinking about her ghost.

 

* * *

 

_One week later_

Managing a criminal empire was busy, grueling work. Over the last week Jack often found herself running on less than three hours of sleep a night. After dealing with the blowback of the Flynt Farm fiasco, and having Joel and Adam take care of the rat in their cooking operation, things were finally starting to come together. She had secured a decent weapons deal with Lindsay and then flown her back to Los Santos, and now it seemed Adam had finally had time to look into Geoff for her.

He arrived late in the afternoon, looking slightly bleary eyed and pale. He and Joel had had to pitch in a hell of a lot more than they were used to after the events of last week. A few of her meth cooks had quit after they had taken care of Cletus the rat, so Joel and Adam were working overtime to make up for the losses.

Jack was sitting on her porch, enjoying a cold beer. Adam walked up the steps and took a seat on the patio next to her. Silently, she passed him a bottle as well.

“Joel out?”

“Yeah, he’s been trying to find some new cooks for us. I think he’s sick of spending so much time in the lab,” Jack replied.

Adam nodded.

“So, found anything on Geoff Fink yet?” Jack asked. The question felt like it was burning a hole in her throat.

Adam pursed his lips, frowning slightly. “Sort of…”

She watched as he pulled out some folded papers out of his pocket.

“There are four Geoffrey Finks living in Los Santos. This one’s 83, this one’s in kindergarten, this one is the wrong race, and this one is the wrong gender, goes by Gemma Fink now.” He passed her each of the papers containing the info on the four Finks.

“So we got nothing,” she said, discouraged, flipping through the profiles.

“Well I did find one guy who matches the profile you gave me. The last names wrong, and you said your guy would be working in something shady, and this guy is just a normal white caller business man but…”

He pulled out one last piece of paper. “His name is Geoffrey Ramsey. Married, lives in Rockford Hills, thirty-one years old, same age as you.”

Jack went still. “Ramsey?”

“Yeah, Ramsey.”

She let out a low, startled laugh. “Fuck. I can’t believe it. He always said he was going to change his last name to match his stepdad’s. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Fucking Ramsey.”

“Would this guy you’re looking for also have changed his middle name to “Lazer” cause according to this, he’s listed as one Geoff Lazer Ramsey.”

Jack stood up, grinning a little wildly. “Yeah that sounds like something that dumbass would do. If that bastard really is alive after all these years I’m going fucking kill him.”

“Kill him?”

Jack took Adam’s head in her hands and kissed him on the forehead. “You’re a genius! What time is it? I got to get going!”

“Wait what?” Adam asked, flustered. “Jack slow down a minute, where are you going?”

“Los Santos, dummy!” she cried.

“You’re going to Los Santos? Now?”

“I sure am, and you’re coming with me!” Jack disappeared inside the house and Adam trailed after her uncertainty.

“I am?”

“Yeah, I need your help on this.”

“I’m mean, obviously, I’m there if you need me, but I just don’t get why—”

“Look,” Jack interrupted him, emerging from the bedroom, an empty backpack in her hands. She went to her dryer and began removing clean clothes, tucking them away into her pack. “If someone you… cared about, someone you thought had died, suddenly came back from the fucking dead, wouldn’t you drop everything to go find them, just to see for yourself if it was true?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess I would, but Jack, what about the business? We can’t just fuck off for a few days, a week, or whatever with no one here to run things…”

“Well, Joel will be here,” Jack replied.

“We’re not gonna take him? Doesn’t he know this guy too?”

“He does, but like I said, I don’t wanna involve him until I know for sure. So we’ll leave him here to run the show. And hey, while we’re in the city we can pick up Lindsay’s first shipment of guns and ammo! Save her the trip! It all works out.”

Adam sighed, clearly resigned to being dragged along on Jack’s great Los Santos adventure.

 

* * *

 

“Oh no worries Jack, just leave little ole Joel here to fend for himself, it’ll be fine! Nothing could possibly go wrong!”

“I’m sensing some sarcasm here,” Jack said into the phone. Maybe calling Joel to tell him they were leaving while they were already on the road wasn’t the best idea.

“Are you Jack? Are you really sensing the sarcasm? I mean really, don’t even worry about it! Its not like Joel has a bunch of skittish cooks who don’t wanna do their DAMN JOBS to deal with. It’s not like there’s still a bunch of Flynts out there, hungry for retribution. It’s not like the friggin Banshees and the Hornet MCs are trying to move in our goddamn territory here. EVERYTHING IS JUST FINE! So absolutely, you and Adam have a nice little vacation, Joel will handle everything.”

“Okay the talking in third person crap is freaking me out. Listen, I’m sorry for… abandoning you or whatever, but Adam and I are hardly going on vacation. This is all for the business. While we’re gone, you’re CEO of Jack Pattillo Enterprises, maybe take some time to implement some of the changes you’ve been nagging me about! Think of this as an opportunity,” Jack replied in her most soothing voice. She could practically see Joel pacing the floor, running a hand through his hair, panic in his eyes. The guy did not handle stress well.

“Oh absolutely I will, Jack,” Joel hissed, obviously still a little testy. “First things first: a name change. Jack Pattillo Enterprises shall henceforth be known as Joel Heyman Industries. Our first order of business, declaring some vacation days for the hardworking CEO!”

“He still talking?” Adam asked from the passenger’s seat of the truck.

Jack held the phone out from her ear so Adam could hear the sounds of Joel babbling angrily away on the other end.

“Give me the phone.” Adam held out his hands and Jack dropped her cell into his palm.

Despite not knowing Joel nearly as long as she had, Adam had a way of calming the other man’s frayed nerves like no one else.

After a few minutes of Adam talking calmly and rationally to Joel and assuaging his fears, he finally hung up, sighing heavily.

“So who’s gonna take care of him when he strokes out?” Adam asked.

“Not it!” Jack said immediately, raising her arm.

“Damn it,” Adam swore.

“Looks like your stuck with him,” Jack said with a laugh.

Adam pretended to grumble unhappily for a minute before letting out a chuckle. “I guess there are worse things.”

“Pshht. Please, do not pretend that you aren’t super into the whole frazzled, manic hot-mess thing he’s got going on,” Jack said with a cheeky grin.

Adam turned to stare at her. “What?!”

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you giving him moony eyes when he’s not looking?”

 “Jaaack, give a guy a break.”

She laughed. “You aren’t denying it.”

“Ugh. Fine. You got me! So what about you and this Geoff character huh? You ever gonna tell me about what went on with you and him?” Adam asked.

Jack pursed her lips, going quiet.

“So you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

“It’s just a long goddamn story, you know?”

Adam nodded. “I mean I figured this guy must have pissed you off real bad, for you to want to find him so much. Either that or you two were banging.”

“We were definitely not banging. And he didn’t piss me off, the guys that killed him – The Federal-fucking-government – _they_ pissed me off. About nine years ago Geoff and I were partners in crime, along with a bunch of other idiots like Joel. We did a lot of small time stuff at first, pickpocketing, boosting cars, running drugs. Geoff had ambitions though; he started us in on robbing stores, then later banks. That’s how we made our name out in Achievement City in Texas. We were a pretty big deal over there, until a job went way wrong. We got caught; a lot of our crew were taken out, including Geoff. I _watched_ him go down. And after the heat died down I went to their fucking funerals, Geoff included. If he’s not actually dead, then I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”

“Jesus. So is this guy is LS really the Geoff that died nine years ago, or some asshole, like pretending to be him?” Adam asked, scratching at his beard.

“Now you’re asking the pertinent questions. If it’s not _my_ Geoff, then who is this guy using my dead using my dead friend’s shitty catchphrase and his lame ass alias? And living with my dead friend’s wife in a big, fancy mansion that must have been bought with my dead friend’s stashed millions?” Jack’s voice rose, her finger’s pressed hard into the steering wheel.

“Damn,” Adam whispered sympathetically. “That’s kind of a mind fuck. So either someone stole your guy’s identity or…”

“Or he’s alive, and has been all this time…” She drew in a shuddering breath.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she replied. “I mean its not… but… it doesn’t matter. Let’s just enjoy the scenery for a minute, okay?”

Adam hummed in agreement, turning to look out the window.

Los Santos didn’t have stars like out in the desert, but the glittering sprawl of city lights were dazzling enough on their own. Jack pulled slowly onto Marlowe Drive, bringing the truck to a halt at a small rest stop that overlooked the great, gleaming metropolis. She stepped outside, leaving Adam behind in the truck. She stood at the edge of the Cliffside, staring out at the city laid before her. He was down there somewhere, in the tangled mess of it all.

He had to be.

“So Geoff… this is where dead men come back to life. It’s been nearly ten years. But you’ll keep for another day or so, huh old friend?”

She felt anger welling deep in her chest. After all this time, she still couldn’t escape it.

“I _grieved_ for you! You stupid asshole! And you weren’t even dead. You were my… my best goddamn friend. How could you? How fucking dare you! We were supposed to… we were supposed to _be_ something. Together.” She wiped the tears from her eyes.

It wasn’t fair. She didn’t know which would hurt worse, finding out he was really dead after all, or finding out that he was alive.

Either way, it was going to fucking suck.

“If you’re not fucking dead I’ll fucking kill you myself, asshole,” she hissed before getting back into the truck and driving down in the glowing city.

 

* * *

         

The Vagabond was a patient man. He had to be, in his line of work. Sometimes his job required him to wait hours and hours on end for a target to move into the perfect position. He was good at waiting, at quietly observing people from a distance. He felt far more comfortable looking at another human being through the scope of his rifle than looking at them face-to-face, eye-to-eye.

That was why he preferred to deal with Dollface over the phone.

He had paid her a sizable sum of cash to play the role of witness to the Vangelico Jewelers robbery on TV. It wasn't often that he chose to work with other assassins, but sometimes it was necessary when they had skills that he... lacked. Dollface was both a fellow assassin and a somewhat of a master of disguise, or so she claimed. After seeing her performance earlier in the night, he finally decided it was time to give her a call.

“Dollface’s Dead Dude Dispensary, your one stop shop for Murders, Mayhem and More, how can I help you today?” came the cheerful, teasing voice on the other end.

 _Ugh_. Why was she like this?

“What the hell was that?” the Vagabond asked, voice low and cold.

“If it isn’t my favorite skull-faced assassin! I take it you saw my awesome performance on the evening news? Pretty rad right?”

“No,” he intoned. “It was way over the top, too melodramatic and the tears were entirely unnecessary. And that accent was terrible.”

She scoffed. “And what would you know about _the theatre_?”

“More than you, I bet.”

“You could at least show some appreciation!”

“I’m paying you in cash, not appreciation.”

He could hear Dollface sighing dramatically on the other end. “Ka-ching, I guess. Are you going to tell me why you’re fucking with the new crew in town? Cause if you’re paying, I’m in. You want me to rough ‘em up a little?”

“No. And believe me, that wasn’t me fucking with them, that was me doing them a favor. And don't interfere,” he warned.

“You never do favors. You being so sketchy is just making me more curious you know!” she said in singsong.

The Vagabond growled. Dollface was just too much to deal with sometimes.

“Stay. Out. Of. It.”

“Alright, alright!” she cried in resignation. “Sheesh, lighten up.”

“Look, I just called to tell you I'm transferring the cash. I’m hanging up now.”

“No wait, I get another guess remember? Uhhh…. David, wait no, I already guessed David. Marcus, yeah you sound like a Marcus!”

“Wrong and wrong, goodbye, Meg.”

He had figured out her real identity years before they had even met. Back then, Meg Turney had been little more than street scamp with a knack for sleight of hand. She had worked her way up over the years, garnering an impressive reputation as both an excellent thief and a contract killer.

“Aww,” she whined. “It’s so unfair you know my name and I don’t know yours. At least give me a hint.”

“It has letters in it,” he said stiffly. “ _Goodbye_.”

“You suck, Vagabond. Call me when you got another job for me! Toodles!”

The phone went quiet, and he let out a sigh.

He glanced down the scope of his gun, seeing his target had finally moved out onto the balcony. The Vagabond took the shot.

The man was dead in an instant. And he was already packing up, on his way to the next hit. The night was young, and there were things to do and people to kill.

The Vagabond was a patient man indeed.

He had waited years for an opening like this. He would have to wait just a little longer, to find a way to get close to this new crew. 

“Ready or not, here I come,” he whispered to no one, to nothing but the cool, dark night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the first chapter of Part Two! I will probably be posting these next chapters on a daily or every other day basis than take a break before part three. Thank you all for reading and commenting!
> 
> Chapter Title Song:  
> Ready or Not Here I Come by the Defonics (GTA 5)


	7. Judgement Day

**The Devils You Know**  

Part Two

Queen Of The Desert

Chapter Seven

Judgement Day

 

“The whole job. _Everything_ about it. Anyone who knows your file… What the hell is wrong with you Geoff?”

“C’mon, Burnie…” Geoff whined into the phone. He had been listening to angry rants of his one and only FIB contact Michael “Burnie” Burns for the better part of a half an hour.

“No, don’t you “c’mon, Burnie” me, Geoff! This is serious fucking shit you’ve gotten yourself into!”

“ _No_ that was serious fucking shit I just got myself out of!” Geoff cried, indignant.

He had had no choice but give Burnie all the gory details of what had happened with Dragovic and why he had pulled the jewel store heist. Even knowing what had happened, Burnie still didn’t seem to get it.

“You know our deal was kind of off the fucking books, Geoff. Putting yourself back in the spotlight like this when you’re supposed to be dead could attract a lot of attention that you don’t fucking want, and not just from the FIB! This is my career on the line here!”

Geoff growled under his breath, moving the phone away from his ear while Burnie raged. Finally he had had enough.

“This may be your career Burns, but it’s my fucking life on the goddamn line. I had no choice. If I hadn’t taken that store Dragovic would have had my head on a fucking pike! So don’t come crying to me about your fucking _career_. If shit goes down you’ll find a way out of it, just like you always do.”

He heard Burnie give an exasperated sigh on the other line.

“And what about Jack?” he finally asked.

Geoff inhaled. “What about her?”

“If she finds out you’re alive, you’re fucked, you know that right?”

“Maybe. But like I said, I would have been fucked anyway if I hadn’t done what I did. I stand by my decision.”

“Just promise me you’ll keep your fucking head down from now on Geoff. I know you don’t give a fuck about my career or whatever, but I’m one of the few guys left over here that knows about the deal we made. I’ve been able to keep people from wondering how the rookie agent Michael Burns took down Texas’s biggest bank robber because you’ve been such a good boy all these years. Don’t make everything we’ve done, everything you’ve given up, all for nothing. That’s all I’m saying.”

And with that, he hung up.

“Fuck me,” Geoff whispered to himself, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He was standing outside the Ammu-Nation in Pillbox hill. The hot afternoon sun was beating down on him, and he was already sweating through his t-shirt and jeans. He stepped back into store, sighing in relief as the cool air-conditioning breezed over him. Ray was in the back corner of the store, practicing at the shooting range.

Geoff made his way back over to him. Ray pulled the shooting earmuffs off when he spotted Geoff approaching.

“How’s the shooting coming?” Geoff asked, looking at the targets out on the range. They were peppered with bullet holes, though most weren’t exactly close to the center bull’s-eye.

Ray sighed, clicking the safety back on his gun. “I fucking suck.”

“Nah dude, you just need practice. You’ll get there. How bout you show me what you got and I’ll give you some pointers.”

“Alright,” Ray replied with a shrug. He slipped his earmuffs back on and stepped back to his spot in front of the range.

Geoff grabbed his own earmuffs and stood behind Ray. “First let me see your form,” he said a little loudly.

Ray adjusted his stance, holding the gun out straight in front of him.

“Okay,” Geoff said, stepping forward and carefully taking hold of Ray’s arms. “Your first problem is that your arms are way too straight. You’re adjusting for a recoil that you’re not gonna have with this type of pistol. Loosen up just a little and let your arm have a slight bend at the elbow.”

Ray allowed Geoff to gently move his arms into the new position. “Yeah, okay, that feels a little better. How should I stand?”

“Keep your legs shoulder-width apart. You’re standing like you gotta take piss. There you go,” Geoff said approvingly as Ray changed his stance. “Now lets see your shooting. Find your target, take aim, and shoot when you’re ready.”

“Okay, I’m going for the one in the middle.”

Ray moved his gun and squeezed the trigger. The bullet whizzed through the bottom end of the target.

“You’re squeezing the trigger way too fast dude, that’ll mess up the aim on your shot. Bring it in nice, slow and smooth. And use your fucking sights, you’re looking up at your target and pushing the gun too far down.”

After following Geoff’s advice and popping off a few more shots, Ray finally hit the bull’s-eye, dead center. Geoff made him keep shooting away until he was able to hit the middle two rings almost every single time.

“Fuck yeah dude!” Geoff cried. “You’ll be a little sharpshooter in no time!”

Ray turned and smiled brightly at him, looking as pleased as Geoff had ever seen him. “Thanks man!”

It was so rare for Ray to sound completely sincere that Geoff was a little taken aback. He recovered, smiling and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “No worries dude, lets get out of here and get something to eat, I’m starving!”

“Sounds good. I wonder how Kerry and the guys are doing?” Ray pondered as they made their way back towards the front of Ammu-Nation.

Making good on his promise to help Kerry deal with the LS² gang harassing her people, Geoff had sent Michael, Jeremy and Gavin along with her to put the fear of god in the gang of assholes.

“Kicking ass and taking names, I would hope,” Geoff responded.

“Yeah,” said Ray. “Those Savage fucks don’t stand a chance.”

 

* * *

 

“Wow, cool Mom Van, Kerry!”

Kerry looked up from where she was loading her grey Vapid Minivan with packages full of stolen prescription drugs to see Jeremy approaching, followed closely by Michael and Gavin.

Having to lay low after the jewel store job and having to wait for Michael’s bruised (and thankfully not broken) ribs to heal meant that she had spent the last two weeks trying to avoid the LS². It had been nearly impossible to find discreet ways to deal to her clients in Vinewood without alerting the LS² to her presence. The gang had already stolen some of her best buyers and there weren’t a lot left who were willing to drive out to places other than the hills to deal with her. Geoff had been nice enough to introduce her to a few new potential clients around his neighborhood, which certainly helped some. But she was eager to take back the hills from the Savage assholes who had stolen it from her.

Fortunately enough time had passed, and her new crew was there to help her out.

“Hey guys!” she called to them, giving a wave. “Glad you could make it.”

“This your place?” Gavin asked, gesturing up to the worn down apartment building she called home. “No offense, but it looks pretty shite, why do you live here?”

“Hey, its not so bad - I got a garage, air conditioning that works most of the time and a cute little family of mice living inside my walls. Plus I can’t exactly afford anything fancy on a paramedic’s salary.”

“Don’t worry Kerry, stick with us and pretty soon we’ll all be fucking rolling in dough. We can all get big fucking mansions in the hills like Jeremy!” Michael said cheerily, throwing his arm around Kerry’s shoulders.

“My house is hardly a mansion,” Jeremy protested.

“Dude, you live in Vinewood Hills in a house with a pool, where I come from that’s a fucking mansion,” Michael replied.

“So,” said Gavin, clapping his hands together. “We ready to do this?”

“I’m all set, you guys got your guns?” Kerry asked.

“Sure do!” Michael lifted his shirt to show off the pistol tucked into his hidden belt holster. “So what’s the plan?”

“I was able to talk to one of the LS² - I got her to set up a meeting with one of their head honchos at the recycling plant in La Puerta. I said I’d be willing to hand over whatever drugs I had left in exchange for protection for me and my friends.” She gestured to the packages of prescription pills she had loaded into the back. “We get there first, we set up an ambush, take out as many as we can and put the scare on the rest. Sound good?”

“Sounds top Kerry!” Gavin exclaimed.

“Yeah, nice work!” Jeremy agreed. “Lets get going, I’m always ready to pop a few gangsters.”

“So it’s just you right?” Michael asked as they began to pile into Kerry’s van. “None of your other dealer buddies are joining us?”

“Nah,” she said, shrugging. “Most of the others couldn’t fight their was out of a wet paper bag. My friend Caleb, he’s a nurse; he can handle himself well enough. Miles too, he’s a doctor, but they’re both super busy with their actual jobs. So yeah, it’s just me.”

The sun was setting over the horizon as they drove towards the plant, the sky a mix of peach and lavender, and the low-slung clouds a dark slate grey.

Kerry pulled into the parking lot of the plant and she and the others piled out of the van. They gathered up their weapons along with Kerry’s drugs and followed her into the warehouse.

“Up here,” she whispered. They headed up a dimly lit stairwell to the higher floors.

Kerry pushed open the door to the office on the highest floor of the warehouse. The office was mostly devoid of furniture save for a large metal desk with a computer, a set of lockers on the sidewall and a couple of empty cardboard boxes piled in the corner. The windows overlooked the parking lot below, allowing them to watch for the Savages while they set up. Kerry checked the other door leading out of the office; it led into a large room filled with wooden crates that exited into the other side of the building.

“Okay,” she said, turning towards the boys once they had all piled into the room. “We agreed to only bring one other person with us, but there’s no way in hell that they’ll be following that rule. I say we pepper the stairwells coming up with sticky bombs, that way if anyone tries to sneak up on us, they’ll be in for a nasty surprise. When they come up for the meeting, Michael and Jeremy hide, Gavin and I greet them and show them the drugs, and on my signal, you guys jump ‘em. We take out whoever is running the show, leave one alive to tell the tale and then badda-bing-badda-boom, we’re outta here!”

“Okay but, hide where?” Michael asked, gesturing wildly to the room around them. “Cause I don’t think either of us are fitting in those fucking lockers.”

“Uhhh, you could hide under the cardboard boxes?” She said, voice rising in pitch slightly.

Gavin and Jeremy sniggered from beside Michael, clearly enjoying the mental image.

“Fuck no! Here’s what I think of your shitty idea!” Michael went over and kicked at the boxes, sending them flying. “That’s stupid as hell Kerry! I’ll kick your ass for even suggesting it!”

Jeremy started laughing in earnest as Kerry pouted. “Aww, Michael.”

It had only taken a few days of knowing Michael to figure out that his bark was worse than his bite. If anything, they all seemed to find his occasional rages rather entertaining. Most of the time.

“C’mon Michael, lets go set up your explosives!” Jeremy said, trying to appease him.

Michael growled, following Jeremy out to the stairwell.

Gavin trotted over to Kerry, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Kerry, do everything in your power to get Michael in the box,” he said in faux seriousness before bursting out with a laugh.

She giggled along with him. “I’ll do my best! Lets get set up.”

 

* * *

 

“Dude you suck at this.” Ray teased Geoff as he struggled with his controller.

“It’s not my fucking fault!” Geoff whined. “You didn’t teach me any of the goddamn buttons! And that’s pretty rich coming from the guy who can barely shoot _or_ drive!”

“But I _can_ school your ass in Call of Duty.” Ray said smugly, watching as Geoff’s character died once again.

“And I can kick your ass in real life!” Geoff tossed his controller aside and grabbed at Ray, trying to wrestle the controller out of his hands.

Ray easily squirmed out of Geoff’s grip and leapt off the couch with surprising grace. “Can’t kick my ass if you can’t catch it, old man.”

Geoff slumped back down onto the couch. “No fair, I’m only like 7 years older than you,” he pouted, burying his head in a pillow.

Ray came back over and patted Geoff’s head. “There, there.”

The last two weeks of relative calm had turned out to be a good thing for the new crew. Gavin and Michael had taken to helping Jeremy boost cars while he still had time before his dad’s morning show interview. Meanwhile Geoff had been helping Kerry with finding new clients and taking some time to teach Ray the basics of driving and shooting.

The down time had also helped them all get to know one another better. Geoff saw the most of Gavin and Michael, and despite his better judgment, he found himself rather enjoying their company. He had never done all that well living alone.

Gavin had practically moved in, trying to keep out of the way of his roommate Dan’s new girlfriend. Michael was over fairly often, even after Gus had declared it safe for him to return to his apartment, he seemed to prefer hanging at Geoff’s place. Geoff also found himself getting along well with Ray, who despite being one of the youngest members of the crew was a little more laid back than the others. It was nice sometimes, to hang with someone who wasn’t as high energy as Michael or Gavin.

Geoff looked up from the couch to see Ray rummaging around in the kitchen.

“Mind if I raid your fridge?” he called back to Geoff.

“Dude, you just ate like two hours ago!”

“I’m a growing boy,” Ray protested mildly.

“I think I’ve got tortilla chips in the pantry, I make a mean queso dip.” Geoff pushed himself up off the couch and padded into the kitchen.

“Somebody say queso?” called a voice from the entryway.

Geoff froze.

Ray looked at Geoff, and upon seeing his expression he moved quietly to his side, facing the archway leading into the kitchen. A figure appeared, her presence seeming to fill the entire room.

There she was.

Tall, dressed in jean shorts and a faded Hawaiian t-shirt, her red hair chopped in a wavy, messy bob. She was beautiful and terrible all at once.

“Jack…?” he asked, voice almost a whisper.

She looked at him, eyes narrow, smiling in a chilling, mocking sort of way. “Geoff…”

Geoff was sure the sound of his heartbeat was echoing throughout the room. His breath had gotten lost somewhere on the way out from his lungs. Ray was glancing back and forth between Jack and Geoff, entirely unsure of what to make of the situation. Geoff stepped slightly in front of him, fearing the worst.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._

“Hey…” he said, trying to sound calm, but his voice shook anyway. “It’s good to see you…”

She nodded slowly. “Hmm, yeah, I bet it is. Course, I’m not the one that’s been… resurrected.”

Geoff flinched.

Jack smiled.

She began to pace the room, looking around at the grand lifestyle the betrayal of his old crew had earned him.

“Well isn’t this grand? No picket fence. Couch looks comfy though!”

“Yeah…Jack, listen, I got into a bit of an awkward situation…” he trailed off, backing up as she moved closer towards him and Ray.

“Oh, was it one of those fake your death to you best friend, run off with the dough and live in a big mansion awkward situations?”

With each word, Jack stepped closer and closer, until they were face to face. Ray silently crept away, back into the living room, eyes wide and uncertain.

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Geoff responding, voice cracking slightly.

“Yeah?” she asked, tilting her head. “Do you have any other ways of looking at it Geoff? Cause I am all out.”

Geoff breathed out heavily, acutely aware that Ray was listening intently to every word. “It’s complicated, Jack. I didn’t _want_ to leave. I was forced, I’m in a sort of witness protection… thing, I promise you I—”

“Witness protection?” she asked with a scoff. She turned away, laughing. “That’s great, that’s really fucking great.”

And then she swung at him.

Geoff ducked her first punch but wasn’t able to avoid the knee to groin. He toppled over with a groan and Jack followed him down, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Geoff had fought Jack before, when they were younger, the fights were never too serious, sometimes they argued over stupid shit and liked to duke it out, sometimes they wrestled playfully, either way, they had always been equally matched in strength and fighting prowess.

At least Geoff thought.

Now he wondered if Jack had been going easy on him all those years.

She pinned him effortlessly to the ground, sitting on his legs so he couldn’t move, one arm shoving his shoulders down, the other near his throat.

For one sick, petrifying moment he thought she was going to choke the life out of him and be done with it.

Instead, she leaned down and kissed him.

The kiss was remarkably gentle, something unexpectedly sweet and sad in it. Geoff was reminded that the Jack he knew from long ago had always been kind and sentimental underneath the hard edges she used to survive.

He was too startled to move, to respond, to do anything other than lay there like a dumbass.

“You asshole,” she whispered, pushing her head against his neck.

Geoff felt a wave of emotions he hadn’t felt in a long, _long_ fucking time. Slowly, moved his hand, touching her back gingerly.

“Jack, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

She leapt off of him in flash, seizing him by the collar and pulling him up along with her. She let out a heavy breath, shaking her head as if to rid herself of her emotions.        

“I’m being rude, aren’t I?” she asked, nodding towards Ray. “You’ve got company.”

Ray waved awkwardly from his spot near the couch. “You uh, want me to… go?” he asked nervously, unsure as to whether he was intruding upon an intimate moment or about to witness a murder.

“Uhh…” Geoff stuttered, still reeling.

Suddenly he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out on instinct and saw that it was Michael calling. He hit ignore.

Not a good time.

“Jack, I know you want to talk, and I can explain everything –” he stopped short as his phone began to ring again, this time from Gavin. He hit ignore again.

Jack raised her eyebrow. “Popular today?”

This time, Ray’s phone gave a little chirp from his pocket. Ray pulled his phone out and checked his messages.

“Uhh, Geoff, we got a problem,” he said, carefully approaching Geoff and handing the other man his phone.

“ _Hey assholes we’re stuck in this fucking warehouse surrounded by fucking ganstas so come get us or the next time you see us you’ll be identifying our bodies in the morgue_ ,” Geoff read the text from Michael out loud. “Shit.”

“Yeah, doesn’t sound like things are going well over there,” Ray replied, voice grim.

“What’s going on?” Jack asked.

“My uh… crew is in a bad way, I need to… fuck,” Geoff glanced around, his head felt completely scrambled.

“Well what are you standing around for dummy? We go get them!”

“We?” Geoff asked.

“Yeah, we. What are you gonna stand there and argue while you’re crew is trouble? Or are you gonna fuck off and go into witness protection a second time? Now lets go, c’mon!” She started off towards the front door.

“You want me with you?” Ray asked as Geoff began to follow her.

Geoff shook his head. “You stay here, we need someone around to post bail in case we all get got, kay?”

“Okay, be careful… I guess?”

Geoff let out a strained breath. “I’ll fucking try.”

 

* * *

 

Jack had gotten behind the wheel of his Cabrio, saying he was in no state to drive. Geoff had agreed, mostly because he didn’t want to argue with her. He was trying to not to stare at Jack too much, but it was hard. It had been so long since he had been able to look at her that her sitting there, watching the road seemed like the most novel and remarkable thing in the world to him.

“Enjoying the view?” she asked wryly, glancing at him.

Jack never missed a thing.

“No. I mean, yes, but… ugh.” Geoff buried his head in his hands.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been enjoying the view too,” she said pleasantly.

His heart jumped a little in his chest. “Y-you have?” he asked, startled.

“Yeah, Los Santos is actually kinda pretty, especially at night.” She gestured towards the glittering cityscape in the distance.

_Oh._

“It’s a nice town,” Geoff agreed. “Do you live here too?”

“No, I’ve got a place up north in Blaine county. Sandy Shores? It’s a dinky little town, but you know, its home.”

“Yeah? What do you get up to out there?”

“I’m the CEO of Jack Pattillo Enterprises.”

“I see,” he said. “And what kind of business do you do?”

“We sell meth and guns to crazy rednecks and biker gangs. The cash is okay. We’ve actually been expanding our territory a bit. I got a gun supplier here in LS I’m meeting with this week.”

This was crazy. He was sitting in the car with Jack Pattillo. He was having a regular, well, almost regular conversation with Jack Pattillo. And she wasn’t trying to murder him.

Yet.

Geoff suddenly felt rather queasy. “You know, you don’t have to come with me on this, if you don’t want. I’m sure I can handle things. We can catch up over beers later…”

“I’m good. I don’t know how you survived without me watching your back all these years anyway. But I s’pose your crew looks out for you huh?” There was a dark edge to her voice that made Geoff nervous.

“I’ve been out of the game for most of the time I’ve been here. The crew is a recent development. _Very_ recent.”

“That jewel store job, was that was you and your new crew then? Heard about it on the news.”

“Yeah. How’d you figure that was us?” he asked.

“That guy is dead as dicks dude!” she mimicked his voice, laughing. “Seriously, no one talks like that but you, asshole.”

“Damn. Good ole Jack, smart as a tack.”

So that was what had led her to Los Santos. It had to be.

“You get a good take?” she asked.

“Sure did, got everything, down to the last diamond earring,” he said proudly. “Turn right up ahead, were headed towards La Puerta.”

“Your crew must be good. I heard they can’t even track down that witness they found, they’ve got no footage and no one saw shit.”

Geoff nodded. “Yeah, they’re mostly rookies, but they’re young and eager to learn.”

"Tell me about them.”

“You want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

“Uh, alright… well you saw Ray back at the house. He’s our hacker, clever as shit, sort of blackmailed me into letting him work for us, but he’s proved his worth. Gavin was one of our gunmen, he’s British and a bit of a prick, but he does what I tell him to do and picks shit up pretty quickly. Michael was the other gunman, he’s some kind of fucking pyromaniac, temperamental, but loyal too. Jeremy and Kerry were the drivers, good kids, kinda goofy, but hardworking. And… that’s it, that’s the crew.” He shrugged.

“They’re the ones we're rescuing then?” Jack asked, voice almost too casual.

“Yeah?”

“You must be worried.”

“I am… is this a…”

“I mean, I know I would be. If my crew were in trouble, I’d be losing my shit. I’d burn down the whole fucking town to keep them safe, and I certainly wouldn’t, _I don’t know_ , fuck off for ten years and leave them high and fucking dry, thinking I was dead in a hole in the ground!” she spat, eyes filled with sudden fury.

Geoff shrank back down in his seat. “I don’t know what to say, Jack,” he whispered wretchedly.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Tell me what to do. Tell me how I can fucking fix this. I know you must hate me, but believe me, I’d give anything for things to be different!”

She shook her head sadly. “That’s just it. I can’t hate you. It’d make things so much easier if I could. I came here thinking you were either a conman using my dead friends identity, or you had faked your death and fucked off with the money because you hated me, because you never really gave a fuck about me or the crew to begin with…but…” she stopped, her breath hitching in her throat.

“That’s not true, that’s not fucking true, I cared, Jack. I cared so fucking much…I still do,” his voice came out in a pleading rush.

“I know!” she cried. “I know, and that’s what makes this suck so fucking bad. Cause otherwise I would have put a bullet in your head and been done with you. It would have hurt still, but I’d have gotten over it. But this… how can I walk away? How can I forget you if you’re still here, and still _you_?”

She sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. It was all he could say.

“Where’s your wife Geoff?”

“Gone,” he replied simply.

“For how long?”

“A few weeks.”

She gave a dry laugh. “I guess shits really hit the fan for you recently, huh?”

“You can say that again.”

 

* * *

 

Kerry’s ambush had gone swimmingly for about five minutes.

And then it all turned to shit.

Which was a shame, cause it had been pretty damn amusing seeing an ecstatic Jeremy and a seriously chagrined Michael leap out from underneath cardboard boxes, guns blazing.

They had taken out the LS² who arrived at the meeting, noting that they had left a few extra gangsters behind in one of their green cars parked out front. The others came running up once they heard the commotion. Kerry put a bullet through the neck of the first guy who came stumbling through the door, but then Michael had prematurely set off his sticky bombs, which meant that when the LS²’s cavalry arrived, they had no fucking defenses whatsoever.

“There’s more coming,” Jeremy noted, peeking out the window. “We gotta get out of here, we’re sitting ducks in this position.”

They had all hunkered down inside the office, watching both doors with rapt attention.

“Shite, bollocking, shite,” Gavin swore. “How’re we getting out?”

“Sneakily?” Kerry asked, voice rising.

“We might just have to fucking shoot our way out. Let’s go through this hallway here.” Michael gestured to the exit leading to the other half of the warehouse. “Keep behind the crates, blind fire if you have to, don’t need any bullets in the brain today.”

Keeping low to the ground, they followed Michael towards the door.

“Ugh,” Gavin moaned, sounding ill. “That’d be the worst, getting a bullet to the brain.”

“You wouldn’t fucking feel it Gavin!” Michael hissed. “You’d be dead!”

“Some people survive getting shot in the head, I’ve seen it. This one dude I treated got shot in the head and you could _see_ his brain tissue, like falling out, it was gnarly shit, and he was still –” Kerry stopped suddenly as Gavin started to gag.

“Guys,” Jeremy begged. “ _Please_.”

“Yeah, shut the fuck up idiots, I hear people coming!” Michael growled.

They all ducked low behind the crates, keeping an eye on the entrance at the other end of the room.

And then they were there.

The Savages streamed in, clad in green, guns going off without hesitation.

Fuck.

They were out for fucking blood.

Kerry glanced at the others, her own expression of bewildered terror mirrored in their faces.

“Fuck this,” Michael whispered through gritted teeth.

And suddenly he was pulling a grenade out of his pack, a desperate and murderous glint in his eye.

“No Michael!” Kerry cried, trying to stop him. “It’s too close quarters, we’ll-”

But it was too late – he was already ripping the pin out and chucking the explosive towards the encroaching gang.

The warehouse shook with the force of the blast. The windows blasted out with shocking force, crates shattered into shards of wood, gangsters went flying, torn to pieces. The strength of the explosion was enough to send Gavin toppling backwards with a cry. Jeremy grabbed Kerry with one hand and shoved her down, while Michael too was tossed violently back, landing roughly on top of them.

Kerry peeled herself off the ground, wincing. She gingerly moved Michael off of her and Jeremy. He was clutching his still injured ribcage, looking pale.

“You fuck,” she whispered venomously to him. “What the hell was that?”

“Uhh, desperate times call for desperate measures?” he replied uncertainty, sounding faintly dazed.

“You okay Gav?” Jeremy asked, helping Gavin sit up.

“Bumped my damn head,” Gavin whispered, wobbling slightly. “Oof, that smarts.”

Jeremy brought his hand to the back of Gavin’s head. “Oh, yeah, you’ve got a bit of a golf ball back there.”

“If you guys are able to move, we should get out of here while it’s clear.” Kerry helped Michael stand while Jeremy hefted Gavin up. Slowly, keeping their heads low, they moved towards the exit.

Half of the wall of the upper floor of the warehouse was blown out. Kerry tried to avoid looking at the bodies that the grenade had torn through. She was used to blood and death, but this level of carnage was a little out of her league.

The LS² had pulled in near the front entrance of the warehouse, so Kerry led them towards the opposite end, towards the back exit. They were able to creep quickly and quietly through the third and second levels, but upon descending to the first level, she saw that the warehouse loading dock was filled with Savages just pulling in.

“Noo,” she moaned.

“What now?” Jeremy asked, ducking down along beside her. “Go back?”

She shook her head. “I’m sure they’ve got that exit covered as well, I think they’re searching the place. If they’ve lost contact with their first two teams I’m sure they’ll be thorough in trying to root us out.”

“Shit,” Jeremy whispered. “They’ll search over here soon, and Michael and Gavin aren’t in the best of shape.”

“I’m fine, I can fight,” muttered Michael from Kerry’s side.

“Gavin’s passing the fuck out over there,” Jeremy said, ignoring him. “I hate to say we’re fucked but…”

Kerry drew in a shaky breath. “Okay. I’ve got this. Michael, stick with Gavin, keep him awake and quiet, he’s definitely got a concussion. Get out your phone and call or text Geoff or Ray or Gus or _someone,_ for backup. Jeremy and I will keep them busy in the meantime.”

Michael went to Gavin’s side, shaking him awake. “ _Fuck,_ I wish I had kept a few stickies or had an extra grenade laying around, cause I really do not like this plan.”

“Deal with it,” Kerry ordered, grinning wolfishly.

“Damn, Kerry, I like it when you get all aggressive, it gives me the tingles,” Michael replied.

“Can you two stop flirting so we can focus on not dying?” Jeremy pleaded.

“Psht… Lets just do this. Ready?” she asked him.

“As I’ll ever be,” Jeremy replied grimly.

“Then here we fucking go.”

 

* * *

 

Geoff didn’t think he’d ever really had a Big Damn Hero Moment before in his life. It seemed like he should have, with how many dangerous situations he’d landed himself in over the years. But it had simply never happened.

Until now.

There was a serene kind of catharsis that came with mowing down the army of assholes who were gunning for his crew. He felt almost invincible, strolling through the warehouse with Jack, guns streaming bullets at the unsuspecting LS². Jack moved with a furious purpose, spitting off bullets at anyone firing from a distance, and checking the ones who tried to engage in close quarters with a shove and a thwack of her gun to the face.

Up ahead, he could see Kerry and Jeremy, looking dirty and battered but mostly okay. They were popping in and out of view as they traded shots with the Savages at the frontline.

The fact that Michael and Gavin were nowhere in sight filled Geoff with equal parts fear and rage. He stormed ahead, executing the Savage taking pot shots at Jeremy with brutal efficiency. Jack was by his side in an instant, taking out the gangster who had turned his gun back towards Geoff.

He saw Kerry nail the gangster she was dealing with in the shoulder. She ducked out of cover to finish him off. Geoff and Jack had rounded on the last two Savages, who upon seeing their friends fall had retreated to cover in the back corner of the warehouse.

Geoff scooped up one of the cowering gang members by the collar while Jack shot down the other trying to escape without hesitation.

“Wait!” Kerry called, scrambling after him. “Leave him alive.”

“Why?”

Kerry approached the LS² member. She grabbed his face in one hand, staring him down with what Geoff thought was a surprising amount of venom. “My name is Kerry Shawcross. You tell your boss to keep his shitty little gang out of the hills and away from our business. If we see even a hint of one of you green motherfuckers lurking around, we’ll send you back home in tiny little pieces, _got that_?”

The man nodded eagerly.

“Cool. Now fuck off.” She smiled serenely, eyes a little crazed.

Damn. Girl could be scary as fuck when she wanted to be.

Geoff released the guy and he darted off like a bat out of hell. “Michael and Gavin okay?” he asked.

“They’re hurt, but they’ll live,” she replied, turning back towards where they had hidden.

He saw Jeremy and Michael helping a half unconscious Gavin over. Michael looked rough as hell, and he saw Jeremy’s arm was bleeding.

“Fuck, Jeremy, you hit?” he asked him.

“A bullet grazed me, I’m okay.”

“I’ll take Gav,” Geoff said, carefully taking Gavin out of his arms. “We should get out of here in case those Savage assholes show up again. We can hunker down at my place for a bit, and Kerry can patch everyone up.

“I’ll need my kit, I left it at my place,” Kerry said, examining Gavin’s bruised noggin. “But I don’t wanna leave Gav and Jer…”

“I’ll help,” Jack said suddenly. He had almost forgotten she was there. “Where’s your place, I’ll grab your stuff.”

“Uhh…” Kerry said uncertainty, glancing between Geoff and Jack.

“Michael you go with Jack in my car, show her the way to Kerry’s. We’ll take Kerry’s van back,” he said, tossing the keys to Jack. “Don’t worry, this is Jack, she’s an… old friend.”

Michael didn’t seem too phased, at least. “No problem,” he agreed.

Jack nodded once to Geoff before heading off with Michael.

“Alright guys,” Geoff sighed, herding his injured crew towards the exit. “Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

It was bizarre as hell for Geoff, seeing Jack sitting on his couch, holding on icepack against the back of Gavin’s head. Michael was sitting on the other side of Gavin, trying to get him to swallow a pain reliever for his head. Gavin was shaking his head in outright refusal, saying it was impossible and that he had never swallowed a pill before in his life.

“How the fuck have you never swallowed a pill before?” Michael asked in exasperation, shaking his head.

“Please, just take it,” Jack said cajolingly. “Your head will thank you in the morning, trust me. Concussions are not fun.”

“Ugh. Fine, give it,” Gavin said, holding out his hand. Michael dropped the pill in his palm and then handed him a water bottle.

Gavin popped the pill into his mouth. “Ugh, its feels weird, I don’t like it,” he complained with the pill on tongue.

“Fucking drink some water, idiot!”

Gavin took a swig of water. “Urghh…” he gurgled, still not swallowing.

“Here,” said Jack. Suddenly she reached out her hand to stroke Gavin’s throat as if he were a dog.

Gavin sputtered, spraying water across Geoff’s living room, the pill dropping out of his mouth and unto the floor.

“Gavin!” Michael yelled, leaping up. “What the fuck!”

“Huh, I thought that would work,” Jack said, chuckling slightly.

“I’m not a damn dog!” Gavin whined with a cough.

“You guys are fucking idiots,” Geoff said fondly, shaking his head. He moved over to the kitchen to find Kerry, Ray and Jeremy. Jeremy was down to his undershirt, and Kerry was carefully cleaning and stitching the wound on his arm while Ray held him steady.

“Drink this,” Geoff said, bringing over a bottle of whiskey.

Jeremy nodded, grimacing. He took a big mouthful whiskey, breathing out forcefully.

“Hoo boy,” he said. “That’s the stuff.”

Kerry finished stitching Jeremy’s arm. “All done. Thanks for the help, Ray.”

“No problem, didn’t really do much.” He turned to look at Jeremy. “You gonna be all right dude?”

“I’m sure I’ll find the strength to carry on somehow,” Jeremy said grimly, clutching his shoulder.

Ray chuckled. “That’s the spirit.”

He padded over to Geoff’s side as Kerry finished up with Jeremy.

The other’s had filled Ray in on what had gone down at the warehouse. But Geoff knew what he really wanted to know about was what had happened at the house with Jack.

“You got a minute?” Ray asked Geoff, quiet and cautious.

Geoff nodded. “Yeah, lets head out by the pool.”

Ray followed Geoff outside. They stood at the edge of the swimming pool, looking down at the gently rippling water. The pool lights cast an eerie blue radiance over everything.

“So,” Geoff said quietly. “I know you’re probably freaking out a little about what happened with Jack earlier.”

Ray shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, shrugging. “I mean, after nearly getting shot down in a police chase, you’d think seeing you get your ass kicked by a giant red-head in short-shorts wouldn’t phase me… but yeah, I guess you could say I’m a little freaked out. Witness protection huh?”

“I mean, it’s a long fucking story, but, yeah, kinda.”

“You gonna leave it at that or…” Ray asked, trailing off.

Geoff exhaled, running his hands over his face. “A million years ago, me and Jack were… partners in crime. We got to be pretty big names in the bank robbery business, we operated out of Achievement City in Texas, but we worked all across the state. Pretty sure we were on the top of the Texas’s Most Wanted List, that’s for sure. Got famous around the country too. We weren’t the best criminals around, or the richest, but we knew how to put on a fucking show. Our heists always made the news. We could have made fucking bank, if we’d have kept at it, but I fucked it all up, got caught by this rookie FIB agent.”

Ray was watching him carefully, looking pensive. “Then what?”

“The agent was ambitious as hell, he wanted to be known as the one who took down the Achievement Hunter crew, and he needed my help to do it. In return for giving up my crew, I’d get immunity, for me and my wife. I just had to fake my death, and we’d get to walk away from it all, start a new life somewhere in a sort of informal witness protection.”

“Dude…”

Geoff couldn’t bear to look at him; he didn’t want to see the disappointment coloring his face.

“I know it sounds fucking terrible, but I was young and stupid and scared shitless. At the time I had no idea that the FIB agent was sorta corrupt, I mean he’s an okay guy, not a like…satan incarnate or anything, but he did a lot of stuff off of the books to get ahead. People in the Bureau were sniffing around him and the other feds involved in dirty shit, so nailing my crew was sort of their saving grace. They got in good with the upper management again; I got a new beginning in a big fancy house in LS with enough money to be set for life. In exchange, all I had to do was fuck over every single one of my friends. Most of them got taken in. Some died. Jack and a few others made it out. They stuck around AC long enough to attend my funeral and cry over my fucking grave. I guess Jack eventually moved out to Blaine County. When she saw the news report on our heist, she put two and two together and figured out I was still alive and kickin’. So that’s why she showed up all full of righteous fucking fury out of the blue. She hasn’t killed me yet – might change her mind, though, certainly has every right to.”

Geoff shook his head, feeling sick to his stomach.

Ray was quiet, unable to find words.

“God, you must think I’m the worst fucking human being alive right now,” Geoff said dejectedly.

“Nah, I think Hitler may have been slightly worse,” Ray intoned, quiet and droll as ever.

Geoff chanced a glance at him. He didn’t look disgusted or outraged or shocked, but that could have just been his face.

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re joking, or if you genuinely think I’m only slightly worse than Hitler,” Geoff replied finally.

“Dude, joking.” Ray cracked a slight grin. “I’m not gonna stand here and judge you. You did what you had to do to survive, I can get that, anyone would.”

Geoff’s shoulders slumped in relief. “I’ve never really told anyone the full story before. Didn’t know what to expect.”

“Look, the only thing I’m worried about is the FIB. Are you still in contact with them, like as an informant or whatever?” Ray asked.

“Nah, I’ve pretty much been left alone out here for the most part. The FIB guy who nabbed me, Burnie, he’s the only one I’m still in contact with. He did call me this morning… god, that feels like fucking forever ago… “

“What did he want?”

”He wanted to chew my ass about the heist. Told me to keep my head down. I think there’s new management in the Bureau or something. Most of the guys who worked on my deal with him have retired, so I think Burnie might be one of the few guys around that knows that I’m not dead in the ground. His career is riding on keeping it that way.”

“Think the feds are gonna be a problem?” Ray asked, sounding troubled.

Geoff supposed it made sense for him to be worried about the FIB taking notice of him, being a hacker and all.

“I seriously doubt they’re gonna start digging around the case file of a man nine years dead. Long as Burnie does his job, we’ll be fine.”

Geoff could only hope that was true.

Ray nodded, looking thoughtful.

“I get it,” Geoff said quietly, placing a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “If this is like… too much or whatever, and you need to bail. I won’t hold it against you. And I trust you enough now to know that you won’t rat. So you know… if you want this to be your out, Ray…. Here ya go.”

Ray looked up at him, eyes narrow and serious for a moment, before he smirked.

“Nahh, I think I’ll hang around, I don’t got anything better to do.”

“Do not pretend like that fat wad of cash I sent your way is not reason numero uno for you sticking around, asshole!” Geoff said with a cheeky grin.

“What?’ Ray asked, aghast. “How could you even say that? I mean the money is great and everything, but the warmth of friendship lasts forever.”

Geoff laughed. “Did you get that off a hallmark card?”

“Yeah your mom sent it to me,” was Ray’s dry retort.

Laughing again, Geoff threw his arm around Ray’s shoulders. “Thanks for… y’know… listening and shit.”

“No problem. And don’t worry. This stays between you and me and… Jack, I guess.”

Geoff nodded. “Thank you. And I _will_ tell the others, eventually, I just gotta make sure shit doesn’t hit the fan with Jack first. Hopefully they’ll be as cool about it as you.”

Ray smirked. “No one’s as cool as me.”

“True,” Geoff replied warmly.

Ray let Geoff lead him back towards the welcoming glow of the house.

Together, they stepped inside.

         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and commenting. 
> 
> Chapter Title Song:  
> Judgement Day by Ryme Tyme (GTA 3)
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on  
> [tumblr](http://noxren.tumblr.com/) too!


	8. Promises, Promises

**The Devils You Know**  

Part Two

Queen Of The Desert

Chapter Eight

Promises, Promises

 

It was just before dawn, the first hints of soft pink and violet were just beginning to color the horizon. There was an early morning chill in the air, as Jeremy, Gavin, Ray and Kerry sat bleary eyed and groggy inside her van, parked a few streets down from a mansion in the affluent neighborhood of Richman. Jeremy had provided hot coffee and energy drinks for everyone, which they were sipping at rather listlessly.

Today was the day.

Jeremy’s father was going to go on national television to talk about his autobiography coming out later in the month. The talk show host would inevitably bring up the topic of his family, and upon mentioning Jeremy’s name his dad would denounce, defame and disown him all in one fell swoop.

Jeremy had made peace with the fact that he was never going to live up to the family name. He was never gonna be a race car driver like his dad, or a surgeon like his mom. He wasn’t going to go to fancy dinner parties to yuck it up with old rich people who just wanted to lord their wealth and good fortune over everyone else. He was never gonna be the polite, obedient son that they wanted. So why even fucking bother?

He couldn’t control what his parents thought of him. He couldn’t stop his dad from disowning him. He couldn’t force his way back into the family.

But there was one thing Jeremy could do, and today, he was finally going to go through with it, with the help of his new crew.

He was gonna steal back all his shit.

Both his parents had left last night. The live-in housekeeper was left behind to keep the place tidy and care for the cat. Luckily Jeremy knew she liked to spend her free days mountain biking. With his parents gone, he had no doubt that she’d take advantage of their absence to go for an early morning bike through the hills to the north.

They had a window of a few hours to break into the house and take back all the shit he’d been forced to leave behind when he was kicked out two years ago.

It might have been petty, and silly, going back for things he had already long since replaced. But Jeremy didn’t care. Maybe it would be one last “fuck you” to the people who thought disowning their kid on national fucking television was a good move.

Jeremy downed the rest of his coffee and turned to the others. “It’ll be light out soon, we should see the housekeeper heading out any minute.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later they saw a small sedan pull out of the front gate, a mountain bike strapped into the bicycle rack. As soon as she pulled off down the road they stepped out of the van, empty backpacks and duffle bags slung over their shoulders. Together they began heading towards the mansion.

“So Gavin, on a scale of 1 to 10, how pissed is Geoff gonna be that we’re doing this?” Kerry asked as they crept along the fence, moving toward the back gate.

“Well that depends…” Gavin replied, voice rough with sleep.

“On what?”

“On whether we cock it up or not. If we don’t, he’ll be like a 2 or a 3, cause he’ll be pissed we didn’t tell him and that we did it why he was away. If we do cock it up… then 10, definitely a 10. He’ll go mental for sure.”

“Let’s not cock it up then,” Jeremy replied, somewhat nervously.

Geoff had taken a chance on him. He felt bad that he was going behind Geoff’s back to do something so paltry and stupid, but… he needed closure dammit! And he couldn’t help it if it was bad timing. Geoff had taken Michael up north to Blaine County two days ago to help his mysterious friend Jack who had shown up out of the blue. So they weren’t around to either help _or_ stop him.

They stopped in front of the back gate. They could have gone through the front, but Jeremy was worried one of his parents’ nosy neighbors might spot them if they were moving around in plain sight. The crew certainly didn’t look like the average person one might spot strolling about the neighborhood, especially when they were dressed all in black and creeping around all stealth-like.

Ray had already disabled the security alarm system in the car. Jeremy hadn’t understood half the other man’s explanations of what he was doing – it had something to do with a device he had bought on the internet that jammed the radio frequency signals sent between the sensors on the doors and windows that would trigger the alarm when opened.

Hacking the gate would have proved to be more challenging. Ray said it would have taken him a couple hours of messing with it using something called SDR to find the code. Thankfully, Kerry had come up with a far easier solution.

She approached the gate and punched in a four-digit code. The light turned green and she pushed the door open. “Ta-da!” she exclaimed, ushering them in with a bow.

“How’d you know the code?” Jeremy asked in wonder as they stepped inside.

“A lot of these gate systems have codes that EMS and police use in emergencies. I’ve been to this neighborhood on the job before and 0911 worked on a place with a gate just like this one. Figure I’d try it again!”

“ _Sweet_ , less work for me,” Ray replied. “Where to?”

Jeremy looked up at the house. He had driven past it a few times since he’d been kicked out, even tried to get his family to let him in again right after it happened. But he hadn’t been inside the gate for two years. It was strange, looking up at it now. It didn’t feel like home anymore.

“We climb to the second story window. We should be able to get up on the trellis and hop onto the roof, there’s a window with a broken latch. Ray took care of the alarms so opening the window from the outside wont trigger the sensor,” Jeremy said, making his way across the immaculate lawn sparkling with dew.

Jeremy approached the back garden trellis overgrown with vines. He clambered up easily enough, pulling himself unto the roof. Ray soon followed him up.

“Be careful Gavin,” Kerry warned, standing beneath him as Gavin pulled himself up. “One more conk to the head and you could be down for the count for good.”

“Kerry!” Gavin whined as he prepared to cross over to the roof. “Don’t say scary stuff like that while I’m climbing! If I fall it’ll be your damn fault!”

“If you fall it’ll be cause you’re a clumsy oaf,” said Ray, crouching on the rooftop without a care in the world.

“I’m not clumsy! I’m graceful as a cat.” To demonstrate, Gavin promptly slipped as he tried to make the climb over to the roof.

Jeremy reached out, scooping Gavin up from the armpits and dragging him onto the roof.

“Dude,” Ray said. “Get it together!”

“It’s Kerry’s fault!” Gavin squawked, gasping in Jeremy’s grip. “She cursed me!”

“Did not!” Kerry cried, offended.

“Did too!”

“Oh my god,” Ray sighed, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. “We are the worst criminals in the history of the world.”

“Guys, stop fighting,” Jeremy said pleadingly. “Lets get inside before someone spots us dicking around up here.”

They all seemed to agree upon that, at least. After Kerry got onto the roof, Jeremy carefully led the way towards the window with the broken latch.

“Alright Ray,” Gavin said as Jeremy prepared to pull it open. “Moment of truth.”

Jeremy popped the window open. They cringed, waiting for the alarm system to start blaring – but all was quiet.

“Well, a bit anticlimactic. But nice one, Ray!” Gavin clapped him heartily on the back.

“Don’t doubt my skills dude!” Ray replied with a grin, following Jeremy through the open window into the house.

They entered into the guest room. Jeremy looked around, the room was almost exactly as he remembered it, stuffy, overly decorated and impeccably clean despite not being used all that often.

“Fancy.” Gavin whistled, looking around. He found the door that led out into the hallway and threw it open. “Wow, look at the size of this place!”

“Gavin!” Jeremy chastised in a whisper. “Chill, dude. We need to be quiet.”

“Why?” he asked, not lowering his voice at all. “Thought everyone was out?”

Jeremy shrugged. “I mean, they are, but… just in case. It feels like… weirdly wrong to just go traipsing around, messing shit up.”

“Slow your roll Gav, follow Jeremy’s lead,” Kerry instructed, touching his shoulder. She followed him out into the hall. “So where’s your old room?”

“Down this way.” Jeremy led them out onto a landing that overlooked a spacious and lavishly decorated living room below.

Jeremy walked to the door that led into his old room. Drawing in an anxious breath, he turned the knob and stepped inside.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Hearing Jeremy swear the others came wandering over from where they had been looking around.

“Jeremy you sick fuck, what the hell is this?” Ray asked mockingly from behind his shoulder.

“I have no goddamn idea,” Jeremy replied, shell-shocked,

His bedroom had been transformed into some sort of…

“Is this a sex room?” Kerry asked, confused.

It certainly seemed that way; the bed was slung low to the ground, covered in silk pillows and blankets. There were sheer, iridescent curtains hangings from the walls and unlit candles were strewn across every surface. The paintings on the walls looked like they came straight out of the Kama Sutra.

“Bloody hell,” Gavin said with a delighted laugh. “Your parents have a bang room! What’s with the ropes?”

He gestured to the various ropes and harnesses dangling from the ceiling in the corner of the room.

“I don’t want to know. I don’t want to be here. I am scarred for life.” Jeremy backed out the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Aww,” Gavin moaned, disappointed. “I wanted to have a look.”

“If your room is a creepy bondage room, then where the hell is your stuff?” Kerry asked.

“Maybe in the basement? Or they could have just tossed it out…” Jeremy replied sadly.

“Man, you think they’d do that?” Ray asked. “My mom is sentimental as shit, I think my room back in New York is exactly how I left it, and its been years since I left home. “

“I mean, my dad hates my fucking guts, so I wouldn’t put it past him, but mom… I dunno.”

“Well lets not call it a day just yet!” said Gavin, trying to rally them. “We’re here, so we might as well search the place. If we can’t find Jeremy’s stuff we’ll take something else as a… consolation prize! Yeah?”

He glanced at Jeremy questioningly.

Jeremy sighed, and then shrugged in agreement. “Alright. Lets all look around. My stuff’ll probably be in boxes somewhere.”

They all nodded and took off with almost childish excitement. Jeremy supposed if it weren’t his life, he would be having fun too, exploring someone else’s house like it was a scavenger hunt.

He found himself wandering from room to room rather listlessly. His parents’ bedroom was almost the same. There were a few new photos on the walls, all of them featuring his mom and dad on vacations in various exotic locales. They looked ridiculously happy.

A pang of sadness coursed through him. It wasn’t as if he had been super close to his family, they had been gone so often throughout his life that their family bonding moments were few and far between. It still hurt, nonetheless, to feel like he had been the weight that had been dragging his parents down all those years.

Jeremy stepped back out the room, shutting the door behind him.

Downstairs, he could here Gavin and Ray laughing about something. He followed the sound of their voices down into the living room.

They had rooted out the family photo albums that his mom kept on the bottom shelf of the bookcase. Ray was sitting on the couch with the album in his lap. Gavin was sitting on the arm of the couch, leaning over him as he flipped the pages. They were giggling gleefully at old photos of Jeremy as a child.

“What’d you guys find?” Jeremy asked casually, strolling up to the side of the couch.

“Nothing!” Gavin yelped, trying to slam the book shut. Ray wrestled it out of his hands and Gavin toppled over onto the couch into Ray’s lap with a squawk.

“Gavin,” Ray sighed, setting him upright. “You are a walking disaster.”

Jeremy took a seat on the couch next to them, taking the album out of Ray’s hands. One of them featured him in a wrestling singlet, posing like a body builder for the camera. A few others his mom had snapped back when he had been in gymnastics and dance classes.

“Wow. I can see why you were laughing. The spandex is not doing me any favors.”

“Sorry dude, we were snooping. Not making fun of you or anything… but damn, these are priceless.” Ray

Jeremy couldn’t help but chuckle. “Its cool, you can laugh. I have a very low embarrassment quotient.”

Gavin seemed to be glad that they hadn’t hurt Jeremy’s feelings. “Look at you, all acrobatic-like. Can’t believe you did all this stuff. My parents could hardly get me out of the house when I was a kid. I just wanted to stay home and play bloody video games all day.”

“Same,” Ray replied.

“Yeah, my parents were always super busy with work and shit. I think they signed me up for all this stuff so I wouldn’t be home alone all the time.”

Ray and Gavin were giving him rather sad looks. He quickly changed the subject.

“So where’s Kerry? She get lost?”

“Uhh…think she wandered down to the basement,” Gavin replied.

“Yeah that would be the obvious and smart place to look,” Ray said. “So of course she’s down there while we’re dicking around up here.”

“Lets go see if she’s found anything, then.” Jeremy stood and made his way over to the door leading down into the basement, Gavin and Ray trailing behind him.

They found Kerry sitting in the theatre room on one of the red lounge seats, an enormous, fluffy grey cat sprawled out on her lap, purring contentedly.

“Hey guys!” Kerry called cheerfully. “I found a kitty.”

“Cat!” Gavin cried excitedly, immediately moving over to the furball. “Can I pet?”

“Can you pet?” Jeremy asked teasingly. “I dunno, can you?”

Gavin ignored him, already stroking the cat’s soft fur and cooing away.

“Gavin sees a cat and his brain malfunctions. Understandable,” Ray said, approaching Kerry. “He’s pretty adorable.”

“Who, Gavin or the cat?” Kerry asked, grinning cheekily.

“Why not both?” Ray replied.

At the same time Gavin said, “Both, obviously.”

They glanced at each other, bursting out with laughter.

Jeremy approached the others, reaching out to give his old pet a scratch under the chin.

“ _Her_ name is Monster Truck, well, to me she’s Monster Truck. To my parents she’s Princess. I was like, 12 when we got her. I was very insistent about the name, but they were not having it.”

Kerry laughed. “Princess Monster Truck. You are so chill, I love it.”

“Jeremy, I love her. We can’t leave her here. Please can we take her?” Gavin pleaded dramatically.

“Gav, we are not stealing my parents’ cat.”

“But we agreed if we don’t find your stuff we could take something else! Why not the cat? Look into her eyes Jeremy! She wants you to take her!” Gavin gently took Monster Truck’s face between his hands, showing Jeremy her large, owl-like orange eyes.

Jeremy could help but laugh. “I’ll think about it, dude. I do miss her, but she likes it here. My parents spoil her to death, look how fats she’s gotten!”

“Fat cats are even cuter,” Gavin said, going back to petting her.

“Speaking of finding stuff, I did find _something_. There were some boxes in the storage closest over there. One of them had Jeremy’s name on it. I didn’t open it yet, but I dug it out for you.” Kerry pointed to other corner of the room.

“Thanks Kerry. I’ll take a look.”

His name on the box was written in his mother’s handwriting, and it was filled with exactly the stuff he had expected her to keep. As he sorted through it all he found some of his favorite toys he had played with as a kid, a carefully wrapped box full of old school craft projects and ornaments he had made, the blanket he had been given in the hospital as a baby, and a a bunch of trophies and medals for all the sports and activities he had been involved in.

This was what was a left.

He now existed as nothing more than a single box in a back room of his parents’ lives. He didn’t know how to feel. The things his mother had chosen to keep proved that she cared, at least. A mother who didn’t care would have tossed out the crappy Popsicle stick ornaments and construction paper Mother’s Day cards.

But she hadn’t.

Even if his dad had written him off as a nothing more than an unredeemable fuckup who was ruining the family name, his mom still cared.

Somehow, that was enough.

He carefully replaced every item, sealed the box shut and moved it back into storage.

“What? That’s it?” Gavin called.

He turned to see the others watching him carefully from the other side of the room.

“You’re really not gonna take anything?” Ray asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Jeremy replied, standing up. “This stuff means more to my mom than me, I think.”

Ray nodded understandingly.

Gavin seemed unconvinced. “We came all this way though! We have to take something!” He held up Monster Truck as an example.

Jeremy approached Gavin, taking the cat out of his arms. “Hi Miss Monster Truck,” he hummed into her soft fur. “I’ll miss you a lot, but you’ll have to stay here and keep Mom company for me. And do me a big favor and shit on my dad’s favorite chair while you’re at it, okay?”

He set her back down on the ground, where she trotted around, rubbing against their legs.

“I got something else in mind for us to take. Something that’ll make my dad lose his goddamned mind.”

“Ooooh, whatcha got?” Kerry asked eagerly, standing up.

The others were staring at him with rapt attention.

Jeremy grinned. “I’m gonna do what I do best - boost some fucking cars!”

 

* * *

 

Before Jack had left Los Santos to return to Sandy Shores, Geoff had promised her three things.

The first promise was that he wasn’t going to fuck off again. He had sworn solemnly her, as she had gotten in her truck with Adam, that this wouldn’t be the last they’d see of each other.

The second promise, she had sort of forced him to make, to be fair. She told him about an idea for a heist she, Lindsay and Adam had put together during their meeting. She knew Geoff and his crew would be looking for a new take soon, and he seemed interested enough when she had explained her idea to him. So she agreed to let him and his crew in on the job, if he in turn promised to help her do a little “cleaning house” back home. In this case “cleaning house” meant helping her take care of the biker gangs that had been harassing her and her people since they had taken down the Flynts. Geoff had agreed, promising he and Michael would drive up in a few days to help her out.

The third promise was one she knew he would break.

“Don’t be late!” she had called out the window as she drove away.

“I wont, I promise!” he had said solemnly, hand over his heart.

“ _Liar_ ,” she’d whispered.

A few days later, Jack was sitting on her porch, waiting for Geoff and Michael. Joel and Adam were there as well, Joel pacing anxiously, Adam watching him pace anxiously.

She had let Joel in on the secret of Geoff being back from the dead a few days ago. Adam had done most of the talking, since Joel always responded better to his calm reassurances than Jack’s. Joel had been angry of course, like she had been at first. He seemed to have simmered down some, now more frustrated than anything.

“It figures, they’re late,” Joel said grumpily. “Geoff lives in own fucking time zone. Huh. _Lives_. Present tense. That feels weird.”

“Tell me about,” Jack muttered.

She was still trying to wrap her brain around the whole thing. Seeing Geoff alive for the first time in 9 years just a few days ago had been more than a little mindboggling. She still pictured him as a clean-shaven, scrawny 22 year-old-old with shaggy hair, wearing a dirty band shirt. The 31-year-old Geoff had shorter hair with a little facial scruff. Most noticeably different were the myriad of tattoos covering his arms and hands.

The strangest thing of all was the 9 years of life experiences they had had separately of one another. Going from spending nearly every goddamn day together since they were teens to spending 9 years apart meant that they had a hell of a lot to catch up on.

“Okay, it’s gonna be dark out soon! What the hell!” Adam shouted, standing up. Joel’s anxiety was catching, it seemed.

As the words were leaving his mouth, Jack spotted a cloud of dust coming down the road. A moment later, Geoff’s Cabrio pulled up. Stepping out of the car, Geoff looked infuriatingly casual with his slightly mussed up hair and black V-neck sweater. Michael hopped out of the passenger’s seat, wearing a hoodie and jeans, yawning slightly. Jack hadn’t gotten to talk too much to Geoff’s crew. Supposedly Michael was a bit of a mouthy hothead with a penchant for pyrotechnics. But with his short, curly hair, freckles and boyish features he looked about as dangerous as a kitten.

Jack got to her feet.

“Nice of you to join us,” she said gruffly. “You’re late.”

Geoff raised his hands over his head in a stretch. “Dude, it’s the weekend, everyone was heading up north, and traffic was a nightmare and a half. Plus you live way out in fuck all nowhere!”

As Geoff spoke his eyes fell first to Jack, then to the house behind her, where Adam was standing on the porch and then finally, he noticed Joel.

Jack may have told Joel that Geoff was still alive and kicking, but she hadn’t extended that same courtesy to Geoff.

For a moment, she could see the pure animal instincts of “fight” or “flight” cross over Geoff’s face as he stared down Joel.

In the next moment, Joel was striding across the yard towards Geoff. He struck a rather alarming sight. Joel was a big guy, and he could pull off a murderous glare like no other. Geoff shrunk back for a moment, wincing in preparation for the worst.

Instead of hitting him, Joel clamped his arms around him into a rough bear hug.

“You fucker!” Joel growled, before shoving him out of his grasp. “You… fucking… fucker!”

“Eloquent as always, Joel,” Jack grumbled.

“Shut up Jack! I still can’t believe you and Adam kept this from me!” He gestured wildly towards Geoff.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me when Geoff is the one who…” she trailed off, glancing at Michael, who was looking rather befuddled. “Didn’t… call you for like… 9 years.”

Geoff had told Jack that Ray was the only one in the crew who knew about the “faking his death and going into witness protection thing”. If Michael didn’t know, she wasn’t about to be the one to spill the beans.

“It’s uh… good to see you, dude. And I’m really fucking sorry for not… calling. That was my bad. I’m an asshole.” Geoff sent Jack a relieved look.

Joel caught on quickly enough and didn’t push the subject, luckily. “Yeah, you got that fucking right.” He stomped away from Geoff, muttering darkly.

Sensing the tension, Adam stepped forward.

“Hey,” he said, nodding towards Michael. “I’m Adam, the angry one is Joel. Welcome to Sandy Shores, I guess?”

Michael huffed out a laugh. “Thanks… I think. I’m Michael, Geoff said you guys were old friends who needed some help with a biker problem?”

Jack nodded; glad to be back on track. “There are two main MCs in the area that have been giving our operation problems - The Banshees and the Hornets. We were friendly with the Banshees up until a few months ago. They used to buy arms from us and we always gave them a good deal, then the assholes got greedy and sent a bunch of members to run us off the road and steel our shit. The Hornets are just low-level scumbags who hassle anyone who they think got more than them. They used to love bothering the Flynt family fuckers, but now that they’re mostly gone they’ve turned their attention to us.”

“We’ve had a couple close calls, here. They’ve taken to hanging around our lab or just circling the town trying to root us out. Our cooks are scared shitless. And words gotten out that we got a new gun supplier, so their eager to take what’s ours,” Adam added grimly.

“So you want us to help you take them out? Two whole MCs?” Michael asked, somewhat daunted.

“Look, right now they think we’re easy pickings. We just gotta prove to them that we’re not afraid to bring the fight. Geoff told me you’re something of a… demolitions expert. I figured we’d take out one of their hideouts, that’ll spook ‘em real good.” Jack replied.

Michael shrugged. “What can I say, I like making things go boom. So where are these fuckers?”

“That’s the problem,” Jack replied. “I’ve seen some of the Hornets hanging out at R L Hunter & Sons in Grapeseed, but that’s not one of their main operations…”

“Maybe we can come in hot, scare the living shit out of the assholes who _are_ there, and when they run off with their tales between their legs…” Geoff continued, nodding excitedly towards Jack.

“We follow them back and rain hell down upon them!” Jack finished, grinning.

Michael laughed. “I’m fucking down for that. What about the other gang?”

“The Banshees are a little more elusive,” said Adam. “Joel and I are going to work on tracking them down. While you guys deal with the Hornets we’ll see if we can find out where they’ve been holing up. We’ll contact you once we know anything.”

“Alright,” Geoff said with a nod. “Let’s fucking do this!”

 

* * *

 

“How’s it going you big ugly bastards?” Jack cried as she pulled up to R L Hunters & Sons.

Three of the Hornets were sitting on a dilapidated old couch in front of the run-down building, drinking beers and smoking up. The dark lot was lit by a few old streetlights, casting a dingy glow over everything. The club members stood upon seeing Jack pull up in her big, red truck.

“Jack Pattillo,” one of the Hornets said. “You’re a dead woman.”

“Am I?” she asked scathingly. “Cause from where I’m sitting, it’s you three who’re fucking dead.”

She pulled out her double-barreled shotgun, and Geoff in the front seat and Michael in the truck bed followed suit, pointing their weapons at the Hornets menacingly.

Michael squeezed the trigger on his SMG, firing off a stream of bullets at the club members’ feet. The three bikers shouted in alarm, dashing off towards where their van and bikes were parked across the lot.

Geoff and Michael took a few more pot shots at them, ensuring that they were adequately terrified.

“Alright, we follow the van back to the rest of them, then the Hornets are out of this region for good,” Jack said, pulling out of the lot after the MC.

As they caught up to the guys on bikes, they started firing back towards Jack with guns of their own.

“Maybe we should take out the dudes on bikes,” Geoff suggested. “We only need the van to lead us there.”

“Good idea!” Jack shouted, swerving on the long dirt road to avoid the blitz of bullets. “Fire at will!”

Michael took aim at one Hornets, Geoff at the other. As Jack swung round a curve in the road, Michael took out one of the bikers. The guy toppled off his bike and onto the road, tumbling directly underneath Jack’s wheels.

“Fuck!” Michael cried. “Now that’s what I call a verified kill!”

“Dude is fucking mincemeat now!” Geoff replied with a laugh.

“Aww, sick!” Jack shouted, but she was grinning wildly. “One down, one to go!”

A few seconds later the last biker caught a bullet to the brain, courtesy of Geoff. He sort of slumped over his bike as it went flying off the edge of the cliff to their left.

“Nice one Geoff!” Michael said approvingly. “Head shot!”

“Thanks, I do what I can. Now we just sit on this guy till he gets to them,” said Geoff.

“Did you see the looks on their faces?” Jack asked with glee.

Geoff laughed. “Yeah dude, we scared ‘em goooood.”

“Sharp left up ahead!” Michael warned from the back, seeing the road veer off along the mountainside.

Jack spun the wheel; the truck skidded in the dirt, sending up a vast curtain of dust. They almost spun out over the cliff, but Jack yanked the wheel back on course with a joyous whoop.

“Your friend is a fucking maniac, you know that?” Michael yelled to Geoff.

“No fucking kidding!”

“You think that was crazy, check this out!” Jack said with a wicked grin.

She pressed down hard on the gas, driving slightly towards the left where a dirt-bike trail led to a jump over the cliff.

“Oh god,” said Geoff. “Jack, do not!”

“Too late,” she replied mischievously, driving straight off the cliff.

The truck went flying high into air, straight over a tree growing out of the rock face. Time seemed to slow as they hung in the air, zooming over the long drop below before finally crashing down onto the road again with a mighty “THUNK”.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Michael screamed.

Geoff was clutching his chest, face white. “Give me a heart attack why don’t you!”

“Fuck you guys, that was awesome.”

“Yeah you know what’s not gonna be awesome? Me shitting all over your goddamn seats! So just fucking drive, asshole!”

Jack laughed, speeding after the van again. They whizzed over bridges and dirt roads, past desert palms and rolling hills, finally slowing once they saw the van veer off up ahead.

Jack brought her truck to halt down the road from a ramshackle trailer park. She turned to look at Geoff and Michael.

“Alright. How do we want to play this? We could go in guns blazing, or sneak in, now that’s its dark enough out. We could set up some stickies on their trailers and sneak back out.”

“I don’t fancy going in guns blazing, not if they got a dozen bikers armed to the teeth in there,” Geoff replied.

Michael nodded. “I agree. If we had more back up, we might be able to get away with it. But I got plenty of sticky bombs. Looks like the lot isn’t lit up for shit, we can split the bombs and creep around in the dark, get as many trailers as we can.”

Jack smiled. “Alright, sounds like a goddamn plan. Lets go boys!”

 

* * *

 

Jeremy flipped the lights on in the garage. They came on slowly, one by one, illuminating his father’s prized possessions.

They were four, shiny, perfectly maintained racecars. They each meant more to his father than just about anything in the world. As a teenage, Jeremy had often found him just sitting out in the garage, admiring them wistfully.

The Declasse Stallion sponsored by Burger shot had been the first car s father had ever raced in. The Redwood Cigarettes sponsored Bravado Gauntlet was the first car he had ever _won_ a race in. He had driven in the Vapid Dominator with the Pisswasser logo the longest, and the neon green Bravado Buffalo sponsored by Sprunk soda had been the last car he had driven professionally before retiring.

Today his dad was going to be just one more rich, old schmuck to steal from.

“Damn, Jeremy!” Gavin strolled from car to car, looking at them with reverence. “Which one are we taking?”

“I was thinking… all of them,” he replied with a shrug. “We all take one. You guys can even keep them if you want. Or I can help you sell them. As long as they’re not sitting here gathering dust anymore, I’ll be happy.”

“All of them?” Kerry repeated. “I mean, that sounds awesome, but there’s four cars, what about –”

“Dude, I call the Pisswasser one!” Ray shouted, going over to the yellow car.

Kerry stared at him blankly.

“What?” he asked. “I’ve been going through Driver’s Ed and taking lessons with Geoff! I can handle this!”

She laughed. “If you say so dude. I got dibs on the green one!” She walked over to the Bravado Buffalo.

“I’ll take the Redwood then! Maybe I’ll let Michael have it, he likes Gauntlets,” called Gavin.

“Then that leaves the Burger Shot for me.” Jeremy grinned, walking over to the wall where his dad kept the keys hanging. He tossed each of them the keys matching their chosen cars.

“What about my van though?” Kerry asked, catching the keys.

“I can follow you back to your place, then drive you back to pick it up,” Jeremy offered.

“Sounds good, I got a two car garage I can hide mine in.”

“Yeah, we’ll have to keep the cars out of sight for a while, once my family gets home my dad will lose his friggin mind. These are his babies,” Jeremy replied, patting one of the cars.

“But fuck him right?” Ray asked, raising his eyebrows at Jeremy.

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, voice low but earnest. “Fuck him. Lets go!”

They all began piling into the cars. Jeremy opened the garage for them and peeled out first, followed by Kerry, and then Gavin and Ray, who had decided to bring their cars back to Geoff’s place.

As they all pulled out in front of the gate, Jeremy opened it up for them with the controller. Before heading out, he rolled down the window of his car, leaning his head out.

“By the way guys, thanks for helping me with all this,” he called to them, voice sincere. “It was wicked cool of you to come along.”

Gavin waved at him from his own car. “Aww, Lil’J! Don’t get all mushy!”

“Don’t even worry about it dude,” Ray replied.

“Yeah, we’re a crew, we help each other out, like you guys helped me!” Kerry called.

“Yeah, well, thanks anyway! Everyone ready?”

They revved their engines in response.

Jeremy laughed happily, hitting the gas and pulling out into the street, his friends following close behind.

 

* * *

 

Rain rarely came to the desert, but when it did, it arrived in drenching droves along with its friends, thunder and lightning. When the lightning cracked across the sky, it illuminated the great, monstrous silhouette of Mount Chiliad, looming in the distance. Jack couldn’t help but stare up at it as she crept through the muddy trailer park, shivering and soaked to the bone.

She occasionally saw Michael and Geoff, equally drenched and miserable as they snuck along the outer perimeter, attaching sticky bombs to each trailer they saw. The Hornets were on high alert after their earlier encounter, some of them patrolling the property with guns. Luckily, most had gone back inside once the rain had started pouring.

Jack had to toss her last sticky bombs over the heads of two Hornets smoking a pipe together outside in order to get to the last trailer. They were too busy shooting the shit to notice it flying over them, and the rain was too loud for them to hear it clunk onto the roof. With her last bomb set, she crept back towards the road.

Geoff met up with her along the way, looking absolutely wretched in his wet sweater, his hair plastered over his forehead.

She laughed in a hushed whisper. “You look like a drowned rat.” She brushed his soaking wet hair out of his face. 

_Do not thinking about kissing him. Do not think about kissing him..._

“And you look like a wet poodle,” he responded, touching her waterlogged curls, pushing her hair back behind her ear.

_Fuck._

He was smiling, hand still pressed gently against her head when Michael approached, clearing his throat.

“I’m done,” he said a little awkwardly, glancing between them.

Jack scooted away from Geoff. “Good work. Lets move back towards the truck, and then you can detonate.”

Michael nodded, trailing after them.

Even in the rain, the trailers went off with an impressive explosion, bursting apart into a cloud of flames that lit up the night.

They watched the explosions together, shivering. The lightning flashed overhead, the thunder boomed, echoing through the mountains, the Hornets’ screams were drowned out in the chaos of everything.

It was kind of surreal, how many of Jack’s nights as of late had ended in fiery explosions.

Before getting back in the truck and heading off, Joel called, reporting that he and Adam had found out the location of the President of the Banshees hideout. They had found a Banshee who had been less than thrilled with the direction the new President was taking the club in, and she had told them where to they could find the errant leader.     

“C’mon,” Jack said after hanging up with Joel. “The Banshee Prez has a mobile home parked along the Zancudo River. Sounds like their new leader is the reason they’ve been giving us shit as of late. If we take her out, the rest of the Club will be more than happy to fall back in line.”

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Geoff replied, hopping back in the truck. “I’m cold, I’m wet and muddy and I just want a hot shower. And maybe a burrito. Or an enchilada.”

“Dude, that sounds so good,” Michael groaned, jumping into the truck bed, which had filled with a few centimeters of rainwater.

“Don’t talk about food right now,” Jack whined. “I’m freaking starving!”

Jack followed Joel’s directions towards the back roads running parallel with the river. The dirt roads had turned into a muddy mess, and the tires of her truck were kicking up sludge that kept flying back into their faces.

“Jesus, Jack, why the fuck did we take this truck!” Geoff cried, wiping mud off his face.

“I didn’t know it would rain! Now quit pissing and moaning, we’re here!”

She pulled up in front of the little mobile home along the river. Lights were glowing inside, so clearly someone was home.

The water had risen a bit with the rain and the dry riverbanks were sloughing off, sliding into the moving water. The trailer seemed to be in a rather precarious position, perched so close to the bank.

Jack had a sudden idea.

“Stay in the car and hold tight!” she called to Geoff and Michael.

“Hold tight to what?” Michael asked, scrabbling around in the back.

“I dunno, the fucking headrests or something!”

Michael clamped on to the back of Geoff and Jack’s headrests, swearing under his breath. Geoff was clutching his seat with one hand, the other grabbing Jack’s shoulder.

“Are you about to do what I think you’re gonna do?” Geoff asked, sounding somehow both resigned and petrified.

“I absolutely am,” Jack said cheerfully, backing the truck up.

A woman appeared at the window of the back of the trailer. Panic was written all over her face as she stared down the monstrous truck with its roaring engine and headlights blasting her in the face.

“Here we go!” Jack roared, punching the car into drive. She blasted through the fence around the property, careening into the trailer. It shot forward as she shoved it towards the bank. They watched the woman in the window tip backwards as the trailer tipped over the edge, sliding down the slippery slope and down into the dark river below.

The Banshee President was able to leap out of the door as her home hit the water, collapsing into the muddy shallows.

Jack bounded out of the truck and down the hill towards the woman, her shotgun at the ready. Michael and Geoff trailed behind her, trying not to slip in the mud.

“What the fuck!” the woman cried, rising up out of the river, soaked and enraged. “Jack Pattillo?”

Jack stopped at the edge of the water, raising her gun towards the President’s face.

“You got that right, you soggy fuck. _You_ are officially out of business. The fucking Flynts are out of business. And now those Hornet _fucks_ are out of business too. Are you getting the picture here? The guns and crank in this area go through Jack Pattillo Enterprise, or they ain’t going!”

“Saying something don’t make it true! My MC is gonna greenlight you after this, just you wait!” the woman shouted riotously. “You can’t take us down. We’re the fucking Banshees and I’m the fucking Queen of this desert, town, crazy bitch!”

“Is that fucking so?!” Jack howled. She rushed forward, pushing her shotgun against the woman’s chest, and fired without hesitation.

The former President of the Banshees MC went flying back into the river, dead.

“You’ve just been deposed. Guess that makes me the Queen of the Desert now, dumbass.”

Geoff and Michael stood near the truck, staring numbly down at the water. Jack climbed back up, breathing heavily.

“Well, I feel better now,” she said calmly, sliding back into the driver’s seat.

“Holy shit,” Michael whispered, hopping back in the truck. “That was… pretty fucking incredible. You’re like… wow… _damn_. Will you marry me?”

Jack gave a delighted laugh. “Sure dude. Instead of wedding ring I want a P-996 LAZER with missile attachments, got that?”

“That’s a little unrealistic honey,” Michael replied with a grin. “How about a crop duster instead?”

“I’ll crop dust the both of you if we don’t get our asses in gear here!” Geoff cried from the front seat. Michael and Jack gave startled laughs, and after a moment of mock grumpiness, Geoff joined in.

They were soaked and muddy, cold and hungry, but hey, they were alive and kicking and had come out on top.

So in the end, it had been a pretty good goddamn night.

 

* * *

 

Back at Jack’s place, Michael had fallen asleep on an armchair almost immediately after showering. Jack was in the shower now, while Geoff sat outside on the porch waiting for his turn, still wet and miserable as he checked his phone.

He had one missed call from Gavin, two from a number he didn’t recognize and several from Gus.

It was past midnight, but Gus was probably up. Geoff dialed his number into the phone.

“Huh?” came the groggy voice on the other end. “Uhh… Gus speaking?”

“Sorry Gus, didn’t mean to wake you, I saw you called a couple of times and I figured you’d still be awake.”

“I am awake. I mean… I _was_. I fell asleep on my keyboard,” Gus said, clearing his throat.

“Burning the midnight oil huh? So what’s up?”

“One of Dragovic’s people got in contact with me after they couldn’t get a hold of you. Apparently the man himself wants to set up a meeting with you, very soon. He asked me to pass along the message.”

“Why the fuck does he want to meet with me?” Geoff asked apprehensively. “Last I heard from him or his goons was when one of them texted me saying they got the money and Dragovic was happy to do business with me, or some shit. That kinda sounded like a fucking goodbye and fuck off, you know?”

“Dragovic is in the mob, Geoff. When they see something they like, they fucking take it. Maybe he has another job for you, maybe he liked your crews’ performance on the last heist. Though I don’t know why he would, with the witness fiasco, I’d think he’d want to distance himself a bit…” Gus trailed off, going completely silent.

“Gus?”

“Shut up, I just had an idea.”

Geoff could hear furious typing on the other end. “Gus? What idea?”

“Look, I’ve been researching the Vagabond a bit and I just think…” Gus went quiet again and Geoff listened as he began typing again.

“Gus!”

“I’m trying to think here Geoff! Alright, I don’t know what I have yet, I need to do a little more research. Why don’t you come see me once you’re back in LS, okay? I got work to do. And seriously - get in touch with Dragovic. _Do not_ make him wait.”

And with that, he hung up.

Geoff sighed, kneading his forehead.

“Fuck!”

“Everything good out here?” Jack called from the doorway, wrapped in a bathrobe. “Showers free. I’m gonna conk out, you gonna be okay on the couch?”

“Yeah, everything’s good,” Geoff replied, standing up. “Couch is fine.”

“You don’t have to pretend everything is good. If something’s up, you can tell me, and I’ll help you,” Jack said, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.

Geoff found himself leaning into the touch. “Thanks, Jack. I think I’ll take you up on that, but maybe in the morning. I’m tired as dicks.”

Jack huffed out a laugh. “Alright, go shower and then get to bed, dirty boy.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, stepping back inside.

In spite of everything that he had gone through, all the bullshit he had to deal with, at least he had Jack back.

Just like when they were young, stupid kids back in Texas, he felt like if he had her at his side, they could conquer the fucking world together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and commenting! Chapter 9 should be up by the 25th!
> 
> Chapter Title Song:  
> Promises, Promises by Naked Eyes (GTA 5)


	9. Signal Failure

**The Devils You Know**  

Part Two

Queen Of The Desert

Chapter Nine

Signal Failure

  

Gus pulled open the door to his house, his hair a tangled mess, his glasses askew and his eyes wide and bloodshot. He had half a pot of coffee in one hand and a bunch of papers tucked under his arm.

“Oh good, you’re here,” he greeted Ray and Geoff at the door, ushering them in.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Geoff said. “Please tell me you’ve slept at least once since we talked.”

Geoff and Michael had returned from Blaine County a few days ago. After hearing Geoff’s story and his history with Jack, Ray understood why Geoff had been so eager to run off and help her. He was trying to make up for a hell of a lot of lost time.

Yesterday, Jack had returned to Los Santos once again, and she and Geoff had headed off somewhere together, though Ray wasn’t sure where. He suspected their disappearance had something to do with a heist they were planning. Everyone was getting antsy waiting on a new take, and it seemed like Jack had an idea. Geoff had even called a crew meeting for later in the day, so Ray figured he’d finally be letting them in on what the new heist was.

Though, it might also have been about Geoff’s meeting with Dragovic the other day. Geoff had gone alone to the mobster's house in Vinewood Hills. Ray had no idea what the meeting had been about, but Geoff had returned, looking drawn, pale and exhausted, and had refused to tell anyone anything about it. He had simply gone off to his next meeting with Jack, claiming he would fill everyone in on what was going on when the “time was right”.

Ray couldn’t help but feel that whatever Dragovic had wanted from Geoff, it hadn’t been good.

Nothing to do with the mob was ever good.

For now though, they were meeting with Gus at the ass-crack of dawn to discuss the research he had been doing over the last few days.

“I have slept a little. I think,” Gus stated, wandering into the kitchen with a slight wobble. “I have to get as much done as I can now, I’ve got a gallbladder removal surgery scheduled in a couple of days. I’ll have no choice but to rest then.”

"Well, promise me you’ll fucking take it easy for a few days, you are _wrecked_.”

“I’ll think about. Coffee?” Gus shook the coffee pot in his hands. “Oh. This is cold. I’ll make more.”

“I’ll get it. You should sit down,” Ray said, stepping into the kitchen. He grabbed the pot from Gus’s hands and poured the cold coffee down the sink.

“Okay, okay,” Gus said, moving back into his computer room. “So, how’s Jack? And Joel? Haven’t seen those assholes in forever.”

“She’s doing good, man, surprisingly fucking good. Joel is pissed as hell still, but you know, its _Joel_. Jack actually said she wants to see you, maybe once you’re all healed up after your surgery we can all get together for beers, and ya know, catch up a little,” Geoff suggested, following Gus.

“Yeah, that sounds good, I mean, as long as there’s no murder and mayhem involved, it’d be good to see them again.”

Ray dug through the cabinets, hunting down coffee filters and ground coffee. He listened from the kitchen as Geoff began regaling Gus with the tail of Jeremy’s car heist a few days ago. Fortunately, Geoff hadn’t been two peeved at him when he’d arrived home to find two shiny racecars parked in his garage.

Apparently he and Michael had gotten up to even more dangerous shit up in the desert, so their relatively quiet day of breaking and entering and grand theft auto hardly seemed sensational in comparison. Which was good, because the last thing Ray wanted to do was get on Geoff’s bad side after he had trusted him enough to tell him all (or more probably, most) of his dirty little secrets. Geoff had even used some of his heist money to purchase a storage garage down the street from where he lived so they’d all have somewhere to store the race cars while the heat died down.

Once the coffee was hot and ready, Ray poured three cups for everyone and carefully carried them into the next room. He wasn’t a huge coffee drinker himself, but getting up this early in the morning required a little extra energy from an outside source.

“So,” Geoff said, accepting his mug from Ray with a nod of thanks. “Before we start talking about what you found Gus, I need to fill you guys in on what’s going on with Dragovic. You two are the only ones who know the whole fucking story, besides Jack, so lets keep this between us for now, okay?”

Ray and Gus nodded.

“I got… “summoned” or whatever to Dragovic’s mansion in the hills. I was hoping it was gonna be a kind of, “thanks for doing business, now go live your life and lets never see each other again” kind of thing, but it definitely wasn’t.”

“Let me guess, it was a “work for me, or pay up kind of thing?” I mean, that’s kind of what the mob does, I can’t say I’m exactly surprised.” Gus sighed, shaking his head.

“Yeah. Well, he gave me three options, actually. Work for him and earn. _Don’t_ work for him and pay him off, and my personal favorite, don’t pay him off and get a bullet in my brain. Oh and one for each of my fucking crew, too,” Geoff growled in exasperation. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do here.”

“Did he say specifically what he wanted you to do?” Ray asked, nervous.

“Nah, he just said he had lots of work that needed to be done in Los Santos that a crew like ours would be perfect for. The weird part of it all is that I actually think he like… likes me. He seemed to really want me to say yes,” Geoff replied.

Gus raised an eyebrow. “Likes you? Like he was friendly to you? Nice? That doesn’t sound like Dragovic.”

“No, he wasn’t… nice, exactly. It was more like I was his favorite fucking animal in the zoo, and he just found me like… weirdly amusing. It was creepy as dicks, to be honest, dude.”

“Well this is a fucking cockup of a situation if I’ve ever seen one. I don’t know what advice I can give you, or how I can help, but I’ll do my fucking best, man,” Gus said with sincerity.

Geoff nodded. “Thanks, Gus. I guess what I was hoping was that you’d have found something, anything on Dragovic. Maybe there’s a fourth option here. Cause I sure as shit ain’t keen on any of the other three. I mean, I'm trying not to have too much of a panic attack here, but its getting hard with the fucking mob breathing down my neck again.”

“Geoff said you were doing research on the Vagabond too. Whether he’s working for or against Dragovic, maybe we can follow that lead as well,” Ray piped in.

Gus turned towards his computer screens and the mess that was his desk.

“I’ve been looking into both. I had a notion, so I followed it. There is something weird going on here…” Gus trailed off, picking up a piece of paper and scrutinizing it carefully.

Ray had a feeling that getting information out of Gus in his manic, sleep-deprived state would be like pulling teeth.

“Did you find something on Dragovic? Or the Vagabond?” Geoff asked, voice on edge.

“I think I’ve found something that ties them – at least loosely, together. This might explain why the Vagabond showed up at our heist. From my research it’s really starting to look like he’s been tracking Dragovic, and his known associates, all across the damn world.”

“Really?” Geoff asked, surprised. “Any idea why?”

Gus shook his head. “Not just yet, but check this out.”

Ray and Geoff scooted forward in their chairs so they could get a better look at what Gus was pulling up on his computer screen.

“Even before all this, I was sort of interested in the Vagabond and his activities. A lot of other people all over the place feel the same way. He’s an interesting mystery. I found this website, Thevagabondtracker.com - full of user submitted photographs, testimonies and sightings. A bunch of it is admittedly, useless garbage, but some of the people on have actually seen him in action, like we did.”

“So what’s this got to do with Dragovic?” Geoff asked.

“I’m getting to it!” Gus snapped, turning back to the web page.

The photos shown were almost all from an incredible distance, and thus blurry and indistinct. But there were a few that were clear enough to see the Vagabond’s signature black skull mask.

“I used the site to try to follow the Vagabond's movements over the past few years. The verified sightings coincide with a lot of high profile assassinations that have occurred in those areas. Interestingly enough, while a lot of his targets are obvious hits, known mafia and gang members, shady politicians, cartel, shit like that, some of the kills are downright bizarre. He’s taken out a CEO of an Italian company that makes pasta, a former Olympian who endorses an athletic wear brand, the heiress to a dairy empire…”

“Okay yeah, that is weird,” Ray agreed as Gus listed off more names.

“I think he’s fixing the fucking stock market… you know, market manipulation.” Gus said definitively, looking up at them.

“The stock market?” Geoff questioned, looking completely befuddled.

“Yeah. I mean, it makes sense. Take out the CEO of one pasta company, the stocks fall in price, but the rival companies stocks rise. It’s a great way for the Vagabond to make a quick buck on what appears to be some kind of cross-continent road trip tracking down the fucking Family. It all adds up! Once I figured out he was playing with the stock market I was able to track him a lot better. Then I started tracking down the Family. They’re even more notorious, and there are a lot of them, so it was easier to see where they were going. Dragovic himself has been to a lot of places over the last few years. The Mob is expanding their reach, taking territories across Europe and Asia, even a few places in Mexico.”

Gus stood up, moving over to one of his whiteboards, he flipped it over to the cork board side, showing off a world map with red and blue and yellow pins stuck all over it.

“Jesus Christ,” Geoff said, rubbing at his facial scruff. “What the hell is all this?”

“The yellow pins are places where one or more of the Family has been. The blue pins are places Dragovic has visited in the last four years or so. The red pins are places where the Vagabond has been working in that same time period,” Gus said a little frantically, backing up so they could take a look.

Ray understood immediately what Gus was talking about. While a few of the yellow pins had red pins right next to them and a few of the red pins stood on their own, it was still easy to see, _every single_ blue pin had a red pin right next to it.

Which meant one thing.

Everywhere Dragovic had gone in the last four years, the Vagabond had followed.

The only questioned remained, what the hell did it all mean? 

Geoff had picked up on the pattern as well. He sat down heavily in his seat, looking exhausted. “That is just fucking bizarre. What’s going on here?”

“I’m not entirely sure!” Gus threw his arms out, exasperated. “All this information and I have no idea where it leads or what it means. But I can say this, I don’t think the Vagabond is a friend of Dragovic’s. If he’s watching us, I think its cause he has it out for the Family. Now that you’re tied to Dragovic, he’s trying to figure out where you fit in.”

“What makes you think he’s after the Family?” Geoff asked.

“The Family has changed leadership a lot over the years, Dragovic rose into his position of boss of the LS Family almost exactly four years ago. Since then, there have been a hell of a lot hits put out on various Family members, a lot of mysterious deaths and disappearances too, all in that same time span of four years.”

“You think the Vagabond is taking out the Family one by one or something?” Ray asked.

Gus pursed his lips, considering. “Maybe, but not directly. He might be putting hits out on lower level Family members. He’s either forgoing his modus operandi to kill them or sending someone else to do the dirty work. The Vagabond’s signature kill is either a bullet to the brain or a knife to the throat. The arranged “accidents” that some of the family members have been having are not his style.”

“That could be the point though? If the Family knew that the Vagabond was out to get them, they’d have surely taken him out already, right?” Geoff asked. “He might be killing them differently to throw them off the scent.”

Gus nodded. “That could be true. Either way, I don’t have an definitive proof.”

Geoff sighed. “So we’re back to square one?”

“Not necessarily, I mean, if he’s out to get the Family, he could be an ally, right?” Ray asked hopefully.

“I don’t want to start a war with the fucking Family here, Ray, I just want to get out of working for them!” Geoff cried, frustrated.

“You clearly don’t know how the mob works Geoff. There is no way Dragovic is letting you walk away from him, not after you’ve proven your usefulness. Taking out Dragovic might be the only way to get out of getting absorbed into the fucking mob ourselves,” Gus said quiet and calm.

“Easier said than done,” Geoff replied. “If the world’s most deadly assassin hasn’t been able to do it in the last four fucking years, what makes you think I can?”

“Maybe if you work together?” Ray suggested. “His problem is that he can’t get close to any of the higher ups in the Family, including Dragovic, without putting himself at risk. If you get Dragovic to trust you enough, you might be able to get close enough to do the job.”

“Yeah, just in time for his fucking bodyguards to make me into Swiss cheese.” Geoff shook his head. “I’m fucked.”

“You’re not fucked, Geoff. Stop being dramatic,” Gus sighed. “For now, just do what Dragovic asks you to do and stay on his good side. After I’m healed up from my surgery, I’ll start working on a new take for you and the crew. So lay low until then and don’t do anything stupid. We’ll figure something out, right Ray?”

Ray nodded. “Absolutely. Chin up, dude.”

Geoff sighed dejectedly. “Yeah, alright.”

“And if we have to join up with the mob, bring it on. I look damn good in a suit,” Ray joked, trying to cheer Geoff up.

The other man cracked a grin and Ray smiled too.

Even if the idea of getting involved with the mob scared him half to death, he’d put on a brave fucking face.

They’d find a way out. They had to.

 

* * *

 

“Two hundred and thirty six billion dollars worth of cargo came through the Port of Los Santos last year. With that kind of cash flowing in and out, we should stand to get away with more than a truck full of pineapples, boys and girls,” said Jack, slamming her hands on Geoff’s dinner table, grinning in excitement.

After getting to know the woman a few days ago during their excursion to Sandy Shores, Michael knew three things for certain about her.

One, she was a little crazy, but more like the mad genius kinda crazy. The exact kinda crazy that he could really see himself getting behind.

Two, she was entirely awesome. After seeing her take out the Banshee MC President without batting an eye, that went _entirely_ without saying.

And three, she was a little bit in love with Geoff, and he was maybe a lot in love with her.

Michael figured they had some sort of deep, dark and probably dramatic history going between them, along with a helluva lot of unresolved issues. But it was plain to see that underneath the tension and snippy words, they cared a lot about each other.

Now the entire crew, plus some pink and blonde-haired girl name Lindsay had gathered together to plan their next heist. It had apparently been Jack and Lindsay’s idea, and they had gone ahead and done most of the set up. It was sort of bizarre seeing Geoff taking a back seat to the planning, but he seemed more than happy to allow Jack to take the reigns.

“So what’re we after?” Gavin asked eagerly.

“I have no idea,” Jack replied simply, shrugging. “But whatever it is, it’s worth a hell of a lot of money.”

“How the hell are we meant to steal something if we don’t know what it is?” Gavin asked, perplexed. The others nodded along in agreement.

“And how do you know if it’s worth anything?” Michael asked.

Lindsay stepped forward from where she stood behind Jack. They had had little time for introductions and small talk before they had to sit down and get to work, but from what Michael gathered, Lindsay was involved in the gunrunning business and had recently struck up some sort of deal with Jack.

“A lot of our weapons shipments come from overseas, so I’ve got friends who work in the port who helped me get to them without drawing suspicion. They let me know when they see anything interesting, anything that might be worth taking. Not long ago I got word of a weird shipment coming in that stood out from all the rest. The freighter was marked military. Government.”

“What’s weird about that?” Michael asked.

“The government stuff is hot freight. Pulls up, goes right through. Apparently this stuffs just been sitting there. What’s even weirder is the Merryweather folks just… hanging around the port.”

“Merryweather Security Consulting?” Kerry questioned, looking nervous.

“The very same,” Jack replied. “Private army to the New World Order – the folks waging outsourced shadow wars in twenty countries around the globe – and recently cleared to operate on US soil. Seems a bit odd for guys like that to be lollygagging around, right?”

Michael was starting to get it. “So there’s a private fucking militia in the port? They gotta be guarding something important right?”

Jack nodded. “Once Lindsay told me about what was going on, I figured the same thing. While we were here the other week we snuck into the port to see for ourselves. We’re still not exactly sure what it is, but we got pictures and a decent look around from the crane.”

She pulled out some blown up images of the freighter in question. They all leaned in to get a better look. Dudes who looked like they meant fucking business were definitely guarding the freighter.

Jack pointed down at one of the photos. “The way it looks to me, there’s a container below deck. They’re guarding it for the government, keeping it off the books. We were able to steel a manifest from one of the dry docks the Merryweather guys were stationed at, and it looks like they're testing something out at sea – serious military technology. They bring it aboard the freighter and lock it up at night.” 

“This sounds like some serious fucking shit,” Michael noted, flipping through the photos.

“Yeah, are we sure we wanna take something this big on, Geoff?” Jeremy asked.

Geoff stepped forward; he placed his hands on the table. He looked tired, haggard and anxious. Michael figured his early morning meetings over the last few days had not gone all that well.

“I'm gonna be real with you all. Dragovic’s been hassling me again. He wants me to work for him, and by me he means the whole goddamn crew. It’s the way of the mob apparently, you either work for them directly, pay them off to leave you the fuck alone, or you get fucking popped. I don’t want our crew to get involved in mob shit, but we might just have to if we can’t pay Dragovic to fuck off.”

“Jesus,” Lindsay swore, looking rather aghast. She obviously hadn’t heard the whole story, but she definitely knew the name “Dragovic”.

“I met with Gus this morning. He’s got a surgery coming up in a couple of days, so he’ll be laid up for a bit. He said he’d help us find a take once he gets better but…”

“We’ve already been working on this one, together,” Jack finished, nodding along.

“Exactly. And it sounds like if we can sell this thing, it’ll be worth a helluva lot more than stolen jewels, that’s for damn sure. Might just be enough to keep Dragovic off our backs for good. Cause I really do not want to spend the rest of my days bending over for that creepy fuck,” Geoff said jadedly.

“So we need a big score to pay him to leave us the fuck alone,” Ray said. “Then it sounds like this is it. I say we do it. I don’t know about you guys but if I have to suck someone’s dick than I’d rather it be Geoff’s and not some wrinkly old mobster fuck.”

Geoff huffed out a laugh, slapping Ray on the back. “Thanks, buddy. So if we wanna try this take, we gotta keep Gus out of it. He’ll be out of commission for a bit and I don’t wanna send him into a panic.”

“We’ll wanna move fast. The manifest I found says the device is only going to be in the port for a few more days before being moved again,” Jack replied. “Its now or never. So what does everyone else think?”

There was a pause, as everyone considered the options.

“It’s risky, but we’re all involved in this now. I say we go for it,” Kerry agreed.

After a moment, the others nodded their assent.

“Well then,” said Jack. “If everyone’s in agreement, lets get planning!”

 

* * *

 

A few days later they had everything set up. Jack had an old military cargo bob she had somehow stolen from Fort Zancudo a few years back, and Lindsay had managed to hook them up with a miniature submarine.

Ray couldn’t decide if the plan they had come up with was either the stupidest or craziest idea he’d ever heard. Apparently the security on the port meant they couldn’t steal the device by truck, boat or plane without getting shot down by either Merryweather, the coast guard or air support protecting the restricted airspace, so that meant they had to go way out to sea, drop a submarine in the ocean and pick up the device underwater.

And to get said device underwater, they had to blow up the fucking freighter it was being stored in and then haul it away from the port so the cargo bob could pick it up.

The heist also involved a lot of other things that sounded incredibly stupid to Ray - like wetsuits, a dingy, Gavin in scuba gear and Kerry driving a fucking submarine – but hey, gotta get that cheddar, or whatever.

They waited until dark to begin.

“I swear to god If I die wearing a fucking skintight wetsuit that rides up my ass like a bitch, I’m coming back as a ghost to haunt all of you assholes - a wet, drippy and miserable ghost,” Ray grumbled from his seat inside the dingy.

Geoff was slowly taking them towards the dark, looming silhouette of the freighter in the distance. Soon they’d have to plunge into the cold, dark ocean in order to climb aboard the larger ship, and Ray was definitely not looking forward to it.

“At least you don’t bloody have to go scuba diving in the dark looking for this damn device! Man, those arseholes on the chopper have it easy compared to us!” Gavin replied rather wretchedly.

“Stop complaining you two, Lindsay is gonna think we’re all whiny little bitches,” Geoff growled.

Lindsay was across the port in a sniper’s nest on the highway overpass. She laughed into her comm. “Hey no worries, I’d be a whiny little bitch too if I was the one going for a midnight swim.”

“Well in that case, let me add one more complaint, these fucking wetsuits have absolutely no ball room. Are we sure Jack didn’t get women’s sizes?” Geoff questioned, shifting uncomfortably.

“I would not put it past her,” Lindsay replied. “Oh, hey I lost sight of you in my scope, quick give me a wave!”

Geoff, Gavin and Ray raised their arms in the air, waving.

Geoff put his arms down. “I can’t fucking see you for shit, but I’m gonna assume you're waving back.”

“Oh, I absolutely am. I see you now. Okay, steer clear of the lights around the docks. I won’t have eyes on you when your boat pulls up to the ship, so stay clear of trouble while I take out some guards, kay?”

“Sure thing,” Geoff replied.

A few minutes later they pulled up to the bow of the ship. Looking up at the towering height of the freighter rising out of the ocean, Ray felt the as if the magnitude of the job they were undertaking was finally starting to hit him. The jewel store heist felt like small fucking potatoes compared to this. And now instead of staying behind the scenes and hacking from the safety of the van, Ray was going into the thick of it, climbing aboard a military freighter in the dead of night to blow it up and steal some mysterious fucking device.

He was trying not to dwell on the insanity of it all. Instead, he just had to keep thinking about all the sweet cash they’d all be rolling in if they pulled it off. Cause the alternative was thinking about everyone sinking down into their watery fucking graves.

Up above, Lindsay was counting off the dudes she was sniping with joyous aplomb. “Three, four, five… and six. Okay, I got all the guys I can see. You’re safe to climb aboard on your end. I’ll watch your backs from up here. There’s probably more guards in the interior of the ship, so keep your eyes peeled.”

“Sounds good, Lindsay,” Geoff replied. “Gavin, stay here with the dingy. Keep watch on the activity out in the water and comm us if you see anything suspicious.”

“Will do, boss!” Gavin gave a mock salute. “Good luck!”

“Well Ray,” Geoff turned towards, looking serious. “Here goes nothing.”

He plunged down into the dark water and began swimming towards the ship.

“Fuck me,” Ray said, nodding to Gavin as he followed him in.

The water was calm in the port, but frigidly cold. Ray swam after Geoff, catching up to where he was waiting at the ladder on the side of the freighter.

“I’ll go up first, see if the coast is clear,” Geoff whispered. He began the slow climb upward.

Ray watched him reach the top and peek his head over. After a minute, Geoff motioned for him to follow.

Once aboard the ship, Lindsay’s voice came crackling over the comms again.

“Hey guys, Jack just messaged me. Kerry is in position with the submarine. Jack and the boys are out at sea in the cargo bob, just waiting for you to set the charges.”

“Alright. We’ve got to set four of them and we gotta do it quickly, Jack can’t keep the cargo bob out there waiting for us forever. Ray you okay with splitting up?”

“Yeah, I mean, Lindsay’s got our backs, and I got a gun, so yeah, think so.”

Geoff nodded. “If shit goes down, abandon ship. Do not try to fight your way out. I’ll lay the charges on the bow pillar and the first mast. You get the second mast and then we’ll meet in the middle, the final charge is gonna be the tricky one.”

“Sounds good,” Ray whispered. “See ya on the other side!”

Geoff groaned. “God I fucking hope not.”

Ray watched Geoff creep off before heading off himself, keeping to the ship’s edge.

Lindsay seemed to sense their nervousness. As soon as they separated she started chatted idly over the comms, occasionally halting to reassure them that the coast was clear. Ray appreciated her efforts, even if his heart was still going a million miles a minute in his chest, it was nice to know someone was looking out for him.

“Alright Ray, I’ve got a good line of site on you, you can lay your charge. Geoff, I can’t see your mast from my position, but there’s no one in the immediate area.”

“Laying the charge,” Ray said quietly. “Done, and done.”

A minute later, Geoff had set both of his charges as well. They met towards the stern end of the ship, hiding between some shipping containers.

“Okay,” Geoff said. “Last charge needs to be set on the upper deck of the ship in that room up there.”

 "There are some more guys patrolling on the outside now. But I can’t see the ones on the other side. One of you needs to set the charge in the room on the upper deck, and the other needs to take out the guys on the port side, or else they’ll definitely notice someone fucking around in there,” Lindsay whispered into the comms.

“Alright, Ray, can you handle setting the charges while I go Rambo on these motherfuckers?” Geoff questioned.

Ray met his gaze. “Absolutely, don’t even worry about me.”

Geoff nodded, relieved. “Lindsay, lets try to coordinate our take outs so we don’t alert any of these mercenary fucks. Ray, get to the upper floors, peek in the windows before you head in, and be fucking fast about it.”

Geoff headed off towards the port side of the ship and Ray made his way towards the metal stairway leading to the upper deck. The area near the stern was far more lit up, and further up, Ray could hear the quiet footfalls of the patrolling mercs.

“Got tall, dark and handsome here in my sights. Shame, he’s got a booty that won’t quit,” Lindsay said with a chuckle.

“My guy is ugly as fuck,” Geoff replied. “He gets to be ugly in heaven, now. Or more likely, hell.”

Ray heard them taking out there respective targets as he approached the door. Peeking inside the window, he saw what looked like some sort of control room. It was thankfully empty.

He pulled open the heavy steel door and crept inside.

No sooner had be begun setting up the final charge than he heard Geoff swear over the comms.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ugly had a friend I didn’t see,” Geoff hissed frantically. “He fucking made me and took off, I think he’s radioing for help, guys!”

“Shit!” Lindsay cried. “I’m seeing a lot of movement now, Ray, get it set and get out of there now!”

“Almost done,” Ray called back to her.

He finished rigging the charges just as somewhere outside, an alarm began to blare.

“Lindsay, am I clear to leave?” he asked anxiously.

“No, there’s a couple a guys running around on our side, if I shoot one they’ll spot me up here! Geoff, if you can lure them over to the starboard side I can get Ray a clear path out!”

“I gotcha, look after Ray! I’m gonna lead them up to the bow!” Geoff called.

Ray heard shouting and gunfire coming from outside as Geoff tried to lure the mercs away. He crept back over to the window, peeking out again. The coast looked clear. He made to move for the door when Lindsay began shouting over the comms again.

“Ray, get back down! There are more guys boarding the ship, they’ll spot you! Geoff, they’re honing in on your position, you gotta bail man!”

“What, jump overboard? I can’t fucking leave Ray!” Geoff cried.

“Geoff take your own advice! If the next sound I hear from you isn’t a fucking splash I will gun you down myself!” Ray hissed.

He didn’t hear the splash, but a few seconds later Geoff’s voice echoed over the comms once more. “I’m in the fucking water. Get him out of there Lindsay or so help me…”

“I got this,” she replied. “Ray, I’m gonna take out these guys boarding the ship. They’re gonna see me, and then I’m gonna have to haul ass outta here. You’ll need to make it to the water. You got all that?”

Ray tried to take a deep breath. His head was buzzing, his heart was racing and nerves were fucking electrified.

He could do this.

“I got it. Give me the signal when you’re ready. Don’t get shot.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I’ll try to avoid that.”

It felt as if the world had gone suddenly quiet. The only sound he could hear was Lindsay’s voice, quietly counting down head shots. Her counting grew more alarmed as she felled more and more of the mercs. They had spotted her in her sniper’s nest and were firing back in earnest.

"Four left, fuck, that one went right by my ear,” she whispered.

“Lindsay…” Ray replied. “You got this.”

“Fuck me, three left.”

“Doing great, you’re almost done.”

“And… down to two. Fuck, fuck, fuck, they are actually running towards me now! Okay, just this one guy left!”

“I’m ready whenever you are!”

Lindsay breathed heavily into her mic. “And then there were none. I can see more mercs driving in, though. Get the fuck out Ray! I’m getting back to my car!”

“Get your ass in gear buddy!” Geoff called, sounding both relieved and frantic all at once.

Ray didn’t need to be told twice. He shoved the steel door open and went tearing down the stairway and towards the bow. The jumping off point was just ahead; he dashed around a corner, running straight into something, _someone_ , that fell to the floor with a startled “ _oof_ ”.

Ray stopped dead in his tracks, staring down at the guy he had run into. He was definitely one of the Merryweather mercenaries, dressed in a bulletproof vest and tactical pants, an assault rifle near his side where he had dropped it.

He felt himself reaching for his own gun. The guy was lifting himself off the ground, grappling for his rifle.

Ray had never killed anyone before. He didn't expect it to be like this. Taking someone else’s life was supposed to be a heavy moment, something you had to really think about, consider. At least that’s the way it always was, in movies, TV shows, video games, the first kill is a defining moment for the hero. He agonizes over it, weighing the pros and cons, wondering if taking the shot will be the catalyst that sets him down a grim, dark path.

Real life was different.

In that moment, there was nothing to think about except this:

Kill, or be killed.

Ray chose kill.

He aimed his pistol like Geoff had shown him, and took the shot.

The bullet didn’t pierce the center of the forehead, like he was expecting, it exploded somewhere in the middle of the guy’s face. Ray didn’t stick around along to take in the mess that was left of it.

After peering over the edge of the boat and into the dark water, Ray leapt. The cold shot through him in a riveting wave as he propelled himself back up towards the surface. Scanning the waters for movement, he finally spotted the dingy, bobbing in the gentle waves. He started swimming for it as fast as his arms and legs could carry him. Already exhausted from his run across the ship, it felt like his limbs were made of stone.

Moments later, he felt himself being yanked from the cold water. He panicked for a moment before realizing Geoff and Gavin had spotted him and were pulling him in.

Ray felt like there was no air left in the whole goddamn world, let alone in his lungs. He gaped silently for breath as Gavin and Geoff checked him over for signs of injury.

“Dude!” Gavin cried. “You’re alive! I thought you got rinsed for sure!”

“Fuck, Ray, are you hurt?” Geoff asked, shaking him a little.

“I’m good,” he wheezed. “My lungs are on fire, but I’m fucking good.”

“Yeah you are.” Gavin slapped his shoulder. “You gave Geoff a damn panic attack! Should have seen him!”

“Like you were any less worried!” Geoff grumbled.

“So,” Ray said, finally catching his breath. “Should we blow this bitch, or what?”

“Yeah,” Geoff replied with a nod. “Time to light her up.”

 

* * *

 

_A few hours earlier_

Gus Sorola was fairly certain he was about to die.

He had imagined his death going down a lot of ways, usually involving some combination of stress and sleep deprivation.

But he never pictured going down like this – lying in hospital bed in a dark room, moonlight slitting through the blinds of his window, illuminating the tall, menacing silhouette of the notorious and deadly assassin, the Vagabond, who was clearly about to cut him to pieces.

For a moment, he wondered if he was dreaming. Or maybe the skull-faced assassin standing before him was the Grim Fucking Reaper himself, come to steal his soul away.

Gus took a minute to blink, and then pinch himself, and then to look at his IV bag to see if he could read the words printed on the side.

The Vagabond was still there, standing quietly at the foot of his bed.

He reached for the nurse call button.

The moment his hand twitched for the button, the Vagabond drew out a very long, very sharp, completely menacing knife.

“Bad idea,” he whispered in a deep, masculine voice.

Gus tried very hard not to sound as terrified as he felt. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

“I’m here to help you,” the Vagabond replied, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Gus eyed the knife, glinting dangerously in the moonlight. “Forgive me, but you and your big knife there aren’t exactly the picture of helpfulness.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time to banter. I’m here about your crew. They’re about to do something very dangerous and very stupid.”

That was… surprising. Gus thought the Vagabond was there because he had digging up information on him online.

“My crew? You mean Geoff…?”

The Vagabond nodded. “It seems he and his cohorts are going to attempt a heist. _Tonight_. Their intended target is a freighter sitting in the port of Los Santos. Rumor has it that a military device is being kept aboard the freighter. And it’s being heavily guarded. By Merryweather Security.”

“Well… _fuck._ ” It figures Geoff and his wayward gang of lost boys would somehow stumble upon quite possibly the most risky take in LS - and all while he was stuck in the hospital and unable to do a damn thing about it.

Stupid _and_ dangerous. The Vagabond was right about that.

Gus had to wonder why the masked assassin had crept into his hospital room late in the night to tell him what was going on. It seemed like his suspicions had been true – the Vagabond _was_ watching Geoff’s crew, and upon seeing them about to make a potentially fatal mistake, he had come to find Gus, their designated Voice of Reason.

“What do you want me to do? Go stop them? I’m a little… you know, _bedbound_ at the moment.”

“You don’t need to go anywhere. I’ll find them. I didn’t find out what they were up too until it was too late for me to stop the heist, but I can get to them before they can make off with the device. It’s imperative that it does not leave LS,” the Vagabond said grimly.

“Why?”

“Because Anton Dragovic is a major shareholder of Merryweather Security. If the mercenaries don’t kill your friend and his crew, then Dragovic certainly will. He has taken lives for far less than discrediting the company he has invested a great deal of time and money in helping.”

Gus ran his hand through his hair, hissing through his teeth. “Shit. Shit. _Shit._ I don’t even… if you can get to them, what would you even do to stop them? They aren’t just going to take you for your word. They’ve heard the horror stories about you, and your stint on the roof at the Vangelico is hardly going to win them over. Hell, I don’t even know if I can trust you. I mean, I’m like 90% sure you’re out for Dragovic's blood but…”

“My reputation precedes me, I understand.” The Vagabond’s voice was quiet and not remorseful but… resigned. "That’s why they don’t have to take me at my words. They’ll just take you at yours.”

He stepped to the side of Gus’s bed, pulling something from his pocket. With a gloved hand, he passed Gus a shiny, brand new smart phone.

“What’s this?”

“I’m going to try to head them off. Once I track them down, I’ll video call you and you can deliver the message yourself.”

“Video call? The Vagabond wants to fucking facetime me. This is unreal.”

The Vagabond sighed. “It can’t exactly be a prerecorded message. They’ll think I forced you to record it and than killed you after.”

“Jesus Christ. Alright. Fine, fucking fine! Go save my fucking crew you mysterious, masked asshole! And don’t you fucking lay a finger on them, or I’ll hobble down there myself and…”

“And what?” the Vagabond asked, voice calm but somehow more ominous than anything he had ever heard before.

Because Gus had forgotten for a moment, that he was talking to the man who had probably killed more people than he had ever met.

“And… give you a stern talking to?”

The Vagabond didn’t laugh exactly, but he huffed out a rather amused breath. “I’m off. Don’t fall asleep.”

“Like I could sleep after this,” Gus replied.

He strode over to the door, pulling it open. Gus found himself wondering how the Vagabond had made his way up several floors of the hospital wearing a skull mask.

“One more thing,” he said at the doorway, turning to glance back at Gus.

“What’s that?”

“You should be careful about snooping around in other people’s business. Not everyone is as tolerant as me, you know.”

Gus felt a chill run up his spine. So the Vagabond _did_ know, after all.

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” he whispered.

“Good.”

And with that, he was gone.

Gus slumped back down into his bed, phone clutched to his chest, heart racing.

Well, _fuck._

 

* * *

 

It was sort of astonishing, how quickly shit could go bad. It seemed like one minute Lindsay was informing them that all was well and the freighter crew was setting the final charge, and the next minute they were being set upon by a metric fuck-ton of mercs, coming at them from land, sea and sky.

“Lindsay, please tell me you are fucking with me here,” Michael growled over the phone.

He was sitting in the back of the cargo bob along with Jeremy while Jack kept them steady above the dark ocean.

“I wish I was fucking with you, but I am definitely not. Last I heard from them, they blew up the ship and Gavin had found the device and set the tracker. They were sending off the sinking ship with that military funeral song when the choppers started coming in. I haven’t heard a peep from them since. I’m out of range of the comms and none of them are picking up their phones,” Lindsay responded, sounding anxious.

“Why the fuck aren’t you with them? You’re supposed to be the damn sniper, aren’t you?” he cried, incensed.

“I had to get the fuck out of there, I was getting shot at!”

“WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU GETTING SHOT AT? NO ONE SHOOTS THE FUCKING SNIPER UNLESS THEY FUCKING SUCK AT THEIR GODDAMN JOBS!”

“Michael!” Jack hissed from the front. “Chill the fuck out!”

“I was trying to save Ray’s ass, thank you very much. Goddamn. Don’t have a stroke, dude,” she replied coolly, seemingly unperturbed by his rage.

From beside him, he heard Jeremy’s phone give a little trill.

“Kerry’s found the device. She’s grabbing it now. Guess Gavin was able to set the tracker on it after all,” Jeremy announced, staring down at the message.

“So then why the fuck are they not answering?” Michael asked.

“There were copters and mercs swarming the bay, they could be under a lot of heat right now,” Lindsay piped from the other line.

“Not good,” Jack muttered, shaking her head. Her face was nearly white with worry. “We weren’t anticipating this much heat being on us so soon. We got a choice to make here.”

Jeremy nodded. “Either wait here for Kerry as planned or…” he trailed off.

“Fly into the port,” Michael replied quietly. “And rescue those miserable fucks.”

“Votes?” Jack asked.

“Rescue mission,” Jeremy replied immediately. He typed out a message on his phone. “Kerry concurs,” he added.

Michael nodded. “We go pull their asses out of the fire.”

“Alright. Jeremy, tell Kerry to keep below the water, we’ll pick her up once we go clear the heat on our boys. Hold tight,” Jack called with a grim sort of determination. She took the cargo bob up and began pushing towards the port.

As they drew nearer, Michael could see the waters were alight with activity. There were police boats speeding around down below, searching the waters. The area was crawling with mercenaries surrounding the docks.

Michael could see the freighter, tilted and half sunk into the ocean. The parts of it still sticking up out of the water were smoldering with smoke and flame.

“Try the comms, we might be in range now,” Jack suggested. “We get any closer we’re gonna be taking some bullets, so we better be goddamned sure that they’re here.”

Michael spoke into the mic, “Geoff? Ray? Gavin? If any of you assholes are still alive out there, pick the fuck up! We’re sitting up in the sky in a big goddamn chopper ready to pull your asses out of the fire if need be.”

He went quiet, listening.

There was a long silence, and then, a quiet, crackling voice.

“Uhh, we’re alive.”

“Geoff?” Michael asked. “What’s going on down there? You guys need a rescue?”

“We’re fucking good dude, I mean, our dingy sunk and we lost all our shit, including our phones, but Lindsay saved our goddamn asses dude. She’s taken out like four choppers and a couple of police boats. We were able to sneak ashore. We’re slowly making our way out of the hot zone. She’s been taking out anyone who gets to close.”

“What?” Michael questioned, baffled. “How the fuck is Lindsay taking out choppers and police boats, I just talked to her a few minutes ago and she was on the fucking road hauling ass out of there.”

“Huh?” Geoff sounded as confused as he was. “Well _someone’s_ out there blowing shit up. If you’re out on the water you’ll see it. Take a look.”

Michael, Jeremy and Jack turned to stare out of the chopper towards the port. Soon, they saw what Geoff was talking about. One of the choppers buzzing around the water was there one moment, and then gone the next, going up in flames. A few seconds later, a police boat drawing close to the shore exploded as well, sinking into the sea.

“Someone’s out there with a goddamn rocket launcher!” Michael cried. “Hold on Geoff, I gotta figure this out. If you guys are safe than we’re gonna get the fuck outta hear before someone spots us. We’ll meet you at Lindsay’s dock. Call us if you run into trouble.”

Jack sighed. “I’ll take us out to sea again, Jeremy, message Kerry again. This is weird as hell.”

Michael, meanwhile, dialed Lindsay once more.

“Going to start screaming at me again?” she asked upon picking up.

“Nah, that can wait. Hey, any chance you’re still by the port, blowing up shit with a rocket launcher?”

“Ummm… no? Should I be?” she asked, voice high and confused.

“No. Just… get to your dock, we’re on our way,” he said shortly, hanging up.

“I’m guessing that wasn’t her than?” Jack asked.

“Nope! But I’m definitely not complaining! Lets go pick Kerry’s ass up out of the ocean and get the _fuck_ out of here.”

 

* * *

 

They were out of the ocean but not out of the woods.

Ray figured it all was going a little too easily, especially when someone started taking down choppers with a fucking rocket launcher for them.

He, Geoff and Gavin had made it to Lindsay’s dock shortly after her. It didn’t take long for Jack in her cargo bob to appear over the horizon, towing Kerry in the sub along below her. He could see the device, whatever the hell it was, attached to the sub’s undercarriage. It didn’t look like much, just a vaguely cylindrical hunk of metal.

They watched as Jack lowered the sub onto the semi trailer Lindsay had waiting for them. Jack hadn’t gone into the details about the buyer she had lined up for the device, but apparently some guy overseas was sending a plane to the Sandy Shores airfield to pick it up come dawn.

After detaching the device, Jack lowered Kerry’s sub onto the docks and went to land the cargo bob. Kerry popped her head out of the top of the submarine, pulling herself out.

“Fresh air!” she gasped in relief. “Holy fuck that thing is claustrophobic as hell!”

Ray, Lindsay and the others gathered around her as she leapt down.

“Glad you guys are okay, heard you got into some heat after I picked up the device,” she said to them as they approached.

“Yeah, things got a little dicey out there,” Geoff said. “But we’re all fucking alive, it seems. Don’t know fucking how, but I can’t complain…”

“I know how. There’s clearly an angel with a rocket launcher looking out for us!” Ray replied with a slightly frenetic edge to his voice. The last few hours had been… draining, to say the least. His nerves were fried and all he wanted to do was lie down and take the world’s longest nap.

“Hey dumbasses!” Michael called from behind them. They turned to watch as he, Jack and Jeremy climbed out of the cargo bob, running towards them.

“Michael!” Gavin cried happily, going to him. “You alright boi?”

“I’m fan-fucking-tastic, its you guys we were worried about! Our job was easy as shit, just sat our asses in the chopper all night,” Michael replied, glancing at each of them.

“Sounds like you guys were dodging explosions left and right,” Jack said, going to Geoff’s side. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

It felt like she was talking to Geoff more than anyone else.

“So you all thought it was me up there with the rocket launcher?” Lindsay asked, confused.

“Yeah, I mean, who the fuck else would it be? Me, Jer and Jack were in the chopper, Ray, Gav and Geoff were on the run and Kerry was in the goddamn ocean, of course we thought it was you!” Michael cried.

“If it wasn’t Lindsay, what about Adam? Joel? Gus? Any of you got friends you told about the heist?” Kerry asked.

Jack shook her head. “It wasn’t either of my boys, they’re running the business up north.”

“Yeah, couldn’t have been Gus, he’s in the goddamn hospital recovering from surgery right now. And I hope to god it wasn’t any of your friends. You little shits weren’t supposed to tell anyone about the heist!” Geoff replied in a huff, staring each of them down.

As they argued, Ray glanced around the lot, feeling suddenly anxious and exposed, like they were being watched. He scanned the area, eyes skimming the ocean, the dark, deserted docks, finally looking up to the roofs of the various outbuildings surrounding the lot.

His eyes fell on the shape of figure, crouching in the shadows of the roof of a building a few feet behind them.

“Uh, guys…” he whispered to the quarreling crew.

They ignored him. The figure on the roof, however, did not. He stood up from the shadows, and Ray could see the large, dangerous object he was clutching in his hands.

He could also see the guys face, illuminated by the dock lights once he stood up.

Or rather, what would have been his face, if he hadn’t been wearing a very creepy, black skull mask.

It was their angel with the rocket launcher, though he looked much more like a demon.

The Vagabond.

Ray drew in a gasp, reaching out for Gavin’s shoulder beside him, dragging the other man close and pointing up towards the roof.

“Gavin!” he hissed in a panic. “Look!”

Gavin sputtered, confused for a moment, before looking towards where Ray was pointing.

When his eyes fell upon the Vagabond, Gavin screamed.

“Bloody hell!” he cried, falling back. Michael grabbed at him before he could hit the ground.

The others finally looked up to. There was no missing the Vagabond now.

There he was, tall and lean, clad in a leather jacket and jeans, a rocket launcher in his hands, the skull mask hiding his identity.

“Holy shit,” Geoff whispered.

“Hello,” the Vagabond said simply in low voice, hefting the rocket launcher up in his arms.

He didn’t need to make threats. Not when it was obvious that he could blow them all away without a second thought. No one moved. No one drew any weapons. They just stared.

“You were the one helping us? Taking out choppers and boats at the port?” Jack asked. It was strange to hear the uneasiness in Jack’s voice.

“I was.”

“Why?” Geoff asked. “And what the fuck do you want from us?”

Of all the crew, Geoff, Ray and Gus alone were the only ones who knew the Vagabond had been tracking Dragovic, and in turn, keeping watch on them.

“I’m trying to save your lives. What were you thinking? Making off with this thing?” the Vagabond gestured towards the device, loaded up on the semi truck.

“I was thinking I’m trying to make a quick goddamn buck, so I can keep Dragovic off my ass!” Geoff cried, irate.

Ray didn’t think that sassing the masked assassin was the best idea in the world, but Geoff was under a lot of stress, and clearly not thinking straight.

The Vagabond seemed angry, or as angry as someone wearing a full face mask could seem. He strode towards the edge of the roof, jumping down onto a dumpster and then onto the asphalt. The crew leapt back away from him as he approached. Seeing their fear, he stopped short, shoulders heaving slightly.

“If you wanted to keep Dragovic from wanting you dead, than stealing a military super weapon from a company he has invested millions in is hardly the way to go about it!”

“Uhh… what? Super weapon?” Geoff asked, looking rather pale.

“Yes. Super weapon. And do your fucking research. Dragovic is one of Merryweather’s major shareholders. Stealing from them is like stealing from him. And trust me on this one, Dragovic doesn’t like when other people play with his toys. But… if you don’t believe me, talk to your friend, Gus.”

“Gus? What did you…?” Geoff questioned, trailing off as he saw the Vagabond pulling a phone out of his pocket and dialing. He held out the phone towards Geoff, who seemed loath to approach him.

“Fine, catch,” the Vagabond said, tossing the phone.

Geoff fumbled and Jack caught it instead, glancing down at it. They all gathered around, watching as suddenly, Gus’s face appeared on the screen.

“Gus? Are you alright? What the fuck is going on?” Geoff asked in a panic.

“I’m doing great, Geoff! You, not so much! Honestly I cannot believe the stupidity that is going on here. I am gone for a few days and what, you lose all semblance of goddamn sense? Merryweather, the FIB, the IAA, not to mention fucking Dragovic himself, are all gonna be gunning for your asses unless you put that thing back where you found it right, fucking now!” he raged in a hushed voice.

“Shit,” Geoff swore, his expression growing more alarmed with each word.

“By the way Jack, nice to see you, we’ll catch up later, alright?” Gus added calmly.

“Uhh, sure thing, buddy,” Jack replied. She seemed more concerned with the assassin armed with a rocket launcher standing in front of them, than anything.

“What do we do?” Gavin asked from behind Geoff's shoulder, voice high and anxious.

“You let me handle the rest,” the Vagabond responded, all business. “I can organize to have it taken back and found amongst the wreckage. They haven’t mobilized anyone to search for it yet, they’re still concerned with finding the people who blew up the freighter.”

“Do what he says unless you wanna end up on every watch list on the planet. Goddammit Geoff, you could have just waited for me! I told you I would find you a score, didn’t I?” Gus groaned from the other line.

“I’m sorry! I fucking panicked okay! I don’t… I don’t know what to do here! I don’t wanna end up as Dragovic’s butt buddy, shit man… I fucked up.”

“It’s on me as much as its on you, dude,” Jack said quietly to him.

Geoff sort of crumpled forward in Jack’s arms, breathing hard.

Ray had never seen Geoff look so lost, or so panicked. He more than anyone, knew how much stress Geoff was under. It hurt to see him so upset. Geoff didn’t want to be in charge at that moment. He didn’t want the pressure, the blame, and the responsibility. He didn’t want to make another decision. Ray could understand that, at least.

“Okay,” Ray said quietly, turning to the Vagabond, who was regarding them all with a cool sort of dispassion. “You can take it back, right guys?”

The others seemed to grasp what Ray was doing. They nodded along. The take, however great it would have been, wasn’t worth their lives.

“I’ll get to it then,” the Vagabond replied, reaching out to Jack to get his phone back.

“You uhh… need any help?” Ray asked, surprising himself.

The Vagabond shook his head. “No, I can handle it, better if you all get home. Lay low and leave everything to me.”

It would have to be a strange fucking turn of events for everyone to agree with placing their lives in the hands of one of the world’s most notorious killers, but… there they were.

A strange turn of events, indeed.

“Alright,” Geoff said finally, standing up straight. “Fuck. I guess this is what we’re fucking doing… we should probably get out of here, right?”

They all made sounds of agreement.

“Oh… and Geoff?” the Vagabond called back to them before heading off.

“Uhh… yeah?” Geoff asked apprehensively, staring back at him.

“I’ll be in touch.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Longest chapter yet! But yay, Ryan is here! Thank you all so much for reading and your encouraging comments! I love hearing what you think! :)
> 
> Chapter Title Song:  
> Signal Failure by Padded Cell (GTA 4)


	10. The Corpse Rises

** The Devils You Know **

Part Two

Queen Of The Desert

Chapter Ten

The Corpse Rises

 

Being dead was damn hard. Gavin could only hope that this death would be only the first, and not the last death he experienced in life.

After Kerry had pronounced him dead on the sidewalk a few blocks from Geoff’s house, he had presumably been stuffed in the body bag and taken to the morgue as planned. Beyond that, Gavin couldn’t recall much of what had actually happened, seeing as he had been given a cocktail of drugs that had put him into a death-like slumber.

He woke in darkness.

His heart was still thumping in his chest, so he hadn’t been… dissected yet, which was good. But he still had to wait for someone to free him from his dark, plastic prison.

It was warm, cramped and uncomfortable inside the body bag. His back ached and his head was killing him, but hey – he was only a fake corpse, and blessedly not a real one.

Low voices were speaking around him, presumably the morticians setting about doing their grim work.

“What do we got?” asked a quiet female voice.

“John Doe. White Male. Underweight. In his mid twenties. Possible drug overdose. Pronounced DOA by a paramedic on the scene,” an older male voice replied.

“Alright,” the woman said. “Let’s take a peek then, shall we?”

Gavin quickly lay as still as he could, squinting his eyes just enough to peek through his lashes. The zipper of the body bag peeled open, and the bright, florescent lights overhead blinded him. He could just barely glimpse the two morticians in white facemasks looming above him.

Not knowing how long it would take to get to the slicing and dicing portion of their… examinations, Gavin figured it was probably best to act now. He leapt up from the table, trying not to pass out from dizziness, and grabbed at the male mortician in a chokehold.

“Guess who’s back from the dead, bitch?” he cried, before slamming the guy’s head face first into the metal table.

The mortician collapsed onto the ground, spitting blood as the female mortician went screaming out of the room in a mad panic.

Well, _bollocks_.

Time to act fast, then.

The things he did for Geoff-effing-Ramsey.

It was rather hard to believe, that over the course of the last two months, Gavin had gone from being a destitute runaway to boosting cars, then jewels, then goddamn military super weapons. And now here he was, infiltrating a morgue to search for a guy who may or may not be dead - for the FIB. All to make sure that Geoff Ramsey didn’t spend the rest of his life rotting away in a cell in Bolingbroke Penitentiary.

After the fiasco that was the Merryweather Heist, Geoff had had a bit of a stress freak-out.

He had sent everyone but Jack and Gavin away. Gavin suspected the only reason he hadn’t been kicked out was because he really didn’t have anywhere else to go, not after Dan had let the lease expire on their apartment and then moved in with his new girlfriend. Geoff’s place had been Gavin’s only home for the last few weeks.

Geoff had spent the days after the failed heist getting drunk on the sofa and watching 80s movies with Jack. Gavin had joined them occasionally, playing drinking games or just laughing at the bad special effects and over-the-top acting.

There wasn’t much else they could do, the Vagabond and Gus had both asked (or rather commanded) that they lay low and keep indoors and to themselves as much as they could until the heat died off.

A week after the heist, the Vagabond had finally called Geoff to tell him that it had been all cleaned up. The story that the news had picked up was that an anarchist cell had targeted the government freighter. The Vagabond had managed to return the device safely to the bottom of the sea and the Merryweather mercs had found it without issue.

They were amazingly, in the clear.

Geoff had been relieved, for a few moments, before realizing his problems were far from over.

That was when he had called the whole crew to a meeting. Even Lindsay had been invited, though Gavin suspected that was at Jack’s insistence. She seemed to have taken the younger woman under her wing somewhat. The others had vouched enough for Lindsay’s trustworthiness as well, especially Ray, after she had saved his ass on the freighter. Plus her connections to the illegal weapons and ammo industry were useful as hell.

After everyone had gathered around, Geoff had dropped the biggest bomb of all, bigger even than the reveal that he was in debt to the damn mob.

Nine years ago, Geoff had faked his own death and gone into some kind of informal witness protection, courtesy of a rather shady agent of the FIB who had apparently blackmailed him into it.

The whole story had been a bit more complicated, but Geoff had explained it all in detail to the captive (and stunned) audience. Jack and Ray alone seemed unsurprised by his revelations.

As for everyone else, it had been a mixed bag of emotions - shock, anger, confusion and a hell of a lot of fear.

After spilling the beans, Geoff had sent them off, giving everyone a few days to mull over what he had told them. He wanted them to decide for themselves, whether or not they wanted to stay or go.

Gavin didn’t know what to think. Being involved with the FIB was hardly ideal, but they didn’t scare him nearly as much as Dragovic did. It seemed like the worst the FIB could do to him was lock him up or send him back to Britain. Gavin was fairly sure the worst Dragovic could do involved being separated from his limbs in the most brutal and bloody fashion imaginable. So really, it made no sense to go running off now. If he could handle the damn mob, than the FIB was fiddle-faddle in comparison.

He told Geoff as much almost as soon as the others had left, and the other man had seemed abundantly grateful.

Gavin’s loyalty had led to this moment.

The FIB agent Geoff was in contact with had called in for an “urgent favor”. The nuances of the complex inner workings and hierarchies of the FIB had escaped Gavin during Geoff’s explanation, but it boiled down to this:

Geoff’s FIB contact, a guy called Burnie, was worried about other agents sniffing around the files relating to Geoff’s faked death. One of the agents “Jason Grant” who had been getting close to the truth had disappeared suddenly. When Burnie had turned to other agents in Grant’s department for answers, they claimed he had passed away in a sudden and tragic car accident. Burnie didn’t believe them. He figured it was far more likely that Grant had been spirited away to some underground bunker to be interrogated by the guy’s who were up Burnie’s ass.

So Burnie dug up the name of the morgue Grants body had supposedly been taken to and tasked Geoff with the job of verifying that the guy was actually dead.

Because if he wasn’t that meant one very, _very_ bad thing.

The FIB was on to them.

It was too dangerous for Geoff to play the… less than coveted role of corpse. If had been caught, their attempts to ensure his freedom would have been moot anyway.

Instead, Gavin had (rather reluctantly) volunteered for the job.

So here he was, hiding out in the cold, dark morgue, trying to find the body of one “Jason Grant” in order to ensure Geoff wasn’t about to be hauled away forever.

Now Gavin needed to check the bodies as quickly as possible to see if this Grant dude really was dead. He began pulling open the cold chambers, trying hard not to gag as he carefully checked the toe tags on each body. On the fourth one he yanked open, he spotted the name “Jason Grant” on the tag. Cringing slightly, he opened the chamber fully to take a peek at the body.

The body didn’t match the name. Jason Grant had been described to him as a white guy in his forties with light brown hair. The body the tag was attached to was a young Latina woman. Definitely not Grant.

Just someone the FIB was invariably intending to lay to rest in his grave.

Which meant Grant had probably been taken somewhere, so the FIB could suss out what he knew.

_Damn._

Hurriedly, he shut the chamber and went over to the knocked out mortician, grabbing his cellphone from his pocket. He dialed Geoff’s number from memory.

“Geoff, it’s Gavin!” he hissed into the phone once the other man picked up. “I found the toe tag – Jason Grant. It’s on some young bird, definitely not your guy. What do I do?”

“Shit, it’s not his body then? Not fucking good…” Geoff swore, sounding harried. “Just a sec, Burnie want’s something.”

Gavin listened to what sounded like muffled arguing coming from the other line.

“Okay Gavvers, Look, Jack and I got to go, we got summoned by fucking Dragovic again so we’re putting together a quick plan right now. So if you need anything, Burnie’ll be here,” Geoff said hastily.

“Damn, Geoff, you alright?” Gavin asked with concern.

“No… but hey, what else is new? Look, I’m giving the phone to Burnie; he’ll explain what’s going on. Good fucking luck buddy.”

Geoff’s voice cut off as Gavin heard the phone being passed over.

“Gavin? This is Burnie,” came another voice. “Alright so your pal Ray helped Geoff and I do some digging and it’s looking like the guys who took Grant are part of a special FIB unit lead by an agent call Biff Paddington. The guy is corrupt and shady as hell; he’ll do anything to get ahead. This whole operation they got going at the morgue is entirely off the books, and they won’t want word to get out about what they’ve been up to. You’ll be clear if you can get out, but you need to leave like, _now_. He’s putting the lower floors of the morgue on lockdown to prevent a leak. Ray is going to cut the power to get you some time to get out, but you’ll need to get upstairs if you’re going to escape. Got all that?”

“Bloody hell! Yeah, I got it, I better get going.”

“Alright, Jeremy is waiting to pick you up outside on Strawberry Ave in a blue Dominator. Don’t get caught.”

“I’ll do my damn best,” Gavin muttered, hanging up.

Gavin waited for the lights to go out before making his move.

He crept out into the dark hall, listening as soft footsteps started making their way towards him. He crouched behind the corner of the wall, waiting with baited breath.

As soon as the agent appeared around the corner, Gavin tripped him up, tackling him to the ground and grabbing for the man’s gun.

Once he wrestled it out of the agent’s hands he aimed it squarely at the back of his neck. The guy fell still and silent, dead.

The gunshot would undoubtedly alert the other corrupt FIB agents to his presence, so Gavin made his way down the hall quickly, hunkering down behind some waste disposal bins. He took out the next two agents who came streaming down from the floors above, moving from cover to cover as he cleared the hall.

He finally made his way to the dimly lit stairwell, dashing upwards as fast as his legs could carry him.

The next floor up was overrun with agents. Gavin knew the main entrance was just beyond the stairwell, but between him and freedom was a hell of a lotta bullet holes.

Instead, he crept up to the top floor. The agents knew at least one guy was in the basement, and that the exit was on the floor above, so they had concentrated their numbers on those floors. The highest floor had only three guys patrolling around cautiously.

He could have taken them out, but the sounds of more gunfire would draw the others way too quickly.

He had a better idea.

Gun at the ready, Gavin sprinted towards the window overlooking the parking lot to the right. He fired off the last of his bullets at the pane. As the glass burst out and the FIB agents came streaming after him, shouting and swearing, he leapt out the window with an unholy shriek, landing ungracefully into a dumpster one story below. Falling into pile of trash was not as soft of a landing as he had imagined. All breathe left his lungs in a “ _whoosh_ ” and his whole body ached with the impact.

There was no time to lie about in the rubbish and complain, however. Gavin scrambled out of the dumpster and made his way towards Strawberry Avenue, where hopefully Jeremy would be waiting for him.

It was dark out now, the sky a smoggy dark maroon the color of crushed velvet. The gold and orange lights of the city glimmered in the distance. Gavin moved swiftly and quietly across the parking lot and towards the street. He could hear the agents still inside the building mobilizing to move after him.

Finally, he spotted Jeremy, parked underneath one of the streetlights that had gone out thanks to Ray’s manufactured blackout. The other man waved Gavin towards him as he approached.

Gavin ran around the other side of the car, leaping into the passenger seat. Agents were pouring out of the morgue in force now.

“Go, go, go! Lil’ J!” Gavin cried as Jeremy floored it, speeding down the road.

Jeremy was a damn good driver, that was for sure. He took them whipping around corners, tearing through alleys and shooting through parking lots to avoid the agents in hot pursuit. His wily driving left most of the vehicles gunning for them spinning out or skidding into oncoming traffic.

They lost the last of their tails after Jeremy took them down the road towards an oil derrick. They parked the car and turned off the lights in the dark fields behind a few outbuildings, watching as the agents zoomed down the road, straight past them.          

“Holy fuck,” Jeremy breathed, chest heaving slightly. “I think we lost ‘em. Look at you, back from the dead. I can’t believe you made it outta there.”

“Don’t sound so surprised! Thanks for the rescue by the way,” Gavin said, sighing in relief. “That was utter insanity.”

“Course, dude,” Jeremy replied with an easy grin “Got a little dicey in there for a second huh?”

“You can say that again! My head is killing, my backs all messed up and my hearts beating a like mad. Not the best way to spend an afternoon. Would not recommend.”

Jeremy laughed. “Sorry dude. We’ll have Kerry take a look at you when we get back to Geoff’s. He and Jack aren’t back yet but he sent word that they just got out a meeting with Dragovic.”

“Shit, I better call him and fill them in on what happened.”

“Yeah I’d do it now, sounds like they want to talk to everyone back at the house as soon as they get back.”

He started the car up again, driving back out towards the road.

“Everyone’s made their decision then?”

Jeremy nodded, looking rather grave. “I think so.”

“Well then,” Gavin said firmly. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

 

* * *

 

It was time to enter the Dragon’s Lair.

_Again._

This time, Geoff wasn’t alone. He had Jack with him at his side.

And the Vagabond, watching over them from a distance.

Gus had outfitted them with their hidden comms, and his newest toy, a lapel pin spy camera that streamed data to a small tablet. The Vagabond was out there somewhere, listening in and watching their every move.

Geoff was less than thrilled about that particular detail, but he was hardly in a position to complain. The Vagabond had seriously saved their bacon a few days ago, and letting the masked assassin be privy to a private conversation with Dragovic hardly seemed like too daunting of a demand in return.

Still, Geoff couldn’t help but feel anxious about the whole thing. The Vagabond hadn’t even shown up in person to make his request. He hadn’t given Geoff a call either, going instead through Gus who had helped them set the whole thing up on the fly after Dragovic had summoned them suddenly.

Now, the Vagabond was supposedly hidden in the woods across the street from Dragovic’s ranch, waiting for Jack and Geoff to be buzzed in at the front gate.

“We’re in position,” Geoff said quietly into his mic, turning away from the security camera that was positioned at the gate.

“I know,” the Vagabond replied gruffly. “Don’t talk to me.”

Jack snorted.

“Rude,” Geoff said. “But I know, I’m not an idiot, just making sure you were there.”

He was met with silence on the other end.

“Not much of a talker, I guess,” Jack said with a shrug. “Come on, the gate is opening.”

Two of Dragovic’s bodyguards met them in the courtyard, nodding silently at them to follow. The house was a large Spanish style ranch on an enormous stretch of land in the hills north of LS. Geoff hadn’t seen much of the property on his first visit, but he knew there was a small golf course somewhere in back, along with a pool and a Jacuzzi.

The approached the front door, and watched as it swung open, revealing a short, dark skinned young woman with long, silvery hair.

“Mica Burton,” said the Vagabond’s voice over the comms. He sounded almost… sad. “Dragovic’s stepdaughter.”

Geoff recognized her from when she had shown up with Dragovic at his house two months ago. He hadn’t known her exact relationship with Dragovic, but stepdaughter seemed to make more sense than girlfriend, at least.

“Hey,” she greeted coolly, stepping aside to let them in. “He’s waiting in the living room.”

Jack was staring at the young woman with open curiosity, but Geoff ushered her away towards the living room before she could start asking questions. The bodyguards trailed along behind them, hands ready to grab at their guns should either of them cause any trouble.

Anton Dragovic was waiting for them, lounging carelessly in an armchair, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. It was rather strange seeing a man usually so stiff and composed looking so relaxed, even if he was in his own home.

“ _Dragovic_ ,” the Vagabond hissed into Geoff’s ear with such venom that he nearly recoiled in fear.

“Good evening. It’s good to see you again Mr. Ramsey and… Ms. Pattillo, I presume?” Dragovic voice was calm and detached as ever. “Please, take a seat.”

Jack and Geoff sat down on the couch across from Dragovic.

“Mr. Dragovic, I’ve heard a great deal about you, it’s a pleasure to finally meet,” Jack said cordially, with an expression that was more a grimace than a grin.

Dragovic didn’t offer his hand and neither did Jack.

“You as well. I’m so glad you could take time out your no doubt busy schedules to visit with me tonight,” he replied, a subtle edge of accusation in his voice.

Geoff figured Dragovic was less than pleased with the time he had taken to make a decision regarding their potential alliance.

He wasn’t sure how to respond; luckily Dragovic saved him the trouble.

“I can understand your… reluctance to work for me, Mr. Ramsey - now that I have a larger understanding of your precarious situation. It took a little digging, but with your long absence from any sort of organized crime, and your sudden reunion with Ms. Pattillo here, it all started making sense…”

“Uh…” Geoff trailed off, heart beating fast. He could feel Jack tense up beside him.

“I’m referring to your relationship with the FIB, Mr. Ramsey. Or should I say, Mr. Fink?”

 _Fuck._ He was dead. He was so dead, Dragovic was going to chop him and Jack and the whole crew up into tiny little pieces and use them to fertilize his fucking garden.

Over the comms he heard the Vagabond swearing under his breath.

“I’d hardly call it a relationship, it’s really noth-” he stopped short as Dragovic held up a hand to silence him.

“There’s no need for either lies or explanations. I understand the situation completely. The FIB does not concern me greatly, Mr. Ramsey. I certainly won’t let it stand in the way of any potential relationship we may have.”

“Sorry, but I’m a little confused. You still want to work with me? Cause shits hit the fan in whole new ways for me recently, and I’m not sure how that would be… uh, beneficial for you?”

Dragovic sipped at his whiskey. “If you are referring to the recent situation at the morgue, and the FIB agent Biff Paddington, then you have nothing to fear. I have contacts of my own within the agency who have been watching the whole situation play out, and its certainty been… interesting. If you choose to come to work for me, I can ensure that Mr. Paddington and his gallery of rogues won’t cause you any more trouble. Men like Paddington crave glory, fame and recognition. His interest in exposing you and your friend Mr. Burns stems from that desire.”

Geoff scooted forward in his seat. “So what you’re saying is…”

“Work for me, and I can throw Paddington a bone that is far more appealing than you.”

“And if I don’t work you…” Geoff trailed off nervously.

“And he’ll throw you to the fucking wolves,” the Vagabond snarled.

“You will be on your own, I’m afraid,” Dragovic finished. “So what do you say, Mr. Ramsey?”

Geoff glanced over at Jack. She was keeping her composure far better than he was, it seemed. The only indications of her discomfort were here hands, clenched tightly on top of her knees.

“Say yes,” the Vagabond whispered. “You don’t have a choice here. I don’t know the whole situation but the only way you walk away from this in a good way is if you agree to work with him.”

Geoff knew the Vagabond had his own motives for wanting to get close to Dragovic – motives he had yet to either mention or explain to them. Geoff also knew that he was right. Nothing good would come from saying no.

He drew in a shaky breath. This was it.

The choice between the lesser of two evils.

“Alright,” he said grimly. “I’ll do it.”

 

* * *

 

After the meeting with Dragovic they had met with the assassin at a rest stop in the hills. The Vagabond was sitting atop a mean, black Akuma motorcycle, waiting patiently for them as they drove up in Geoff’s car.

It was the first time Geoff had seen him since the night of the Merryweather heist. He was wearing the same leather jacket with blue stripes, but he had traded his skull mask for motorcycle helmet. The visor was too dark to see anything of his face, however. Though Geoff still gave it the old college try, squinting intently at the helmet as he approached.

The Vagabond stared back calmly as they strolled up to him. “You really think I’d be wearing a helmet you could see through?” he asked somewhat mockingly.

“Uhh, no, sorry,” Geoff replied. “Just a little curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” the Vagabond said darkly.

Somehow everything out of the guy’s mouth sounded like a threat.

“But satisfaction brought him back,” Jack finished with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

“You’ll find no satisfaction in discerning my identity,” the assassin replied.

“What will we find then, a knife to the throat?” Geoff asked, indignant.

The Vagabond shrugged. “Probably.”

“All right, lets all cool it here. So!” Jack placated, putting her hands up. She turned to the Vagabond. “You heard everything that went down back there. Any thoughts?”

“Lots of them,” he replied.

“Okay, care to share with the rest of the class?” Jack asked, hands moving to her hips.

The Vagabond turned his head towards her. “Not particularly. Here, you can return this to your friend, Gus.” He passed over the comm and the tablet that he had been using to spy on Dragovic through Geoff.

“So we did what you asked. You got to spy on your arch-nemesis or whatever… and now you know all my dirty little secrets. So now what? What do you want from us?” Geoff asked, rather irritably. He was tired of feeling out of the loop in his own goddamn life.

“You seem to already know what I want,” the Vagabond replied, voice ice cold. “I want to put an end to the whole goddamn Family. I want the streets to run red with their blood, and once I’ve slaughtered every last one of those miserable fucks, I want the last thing Dragovic sees to be me, running my blade through his goddamn throat.”

Geoff shrank back slightly. The guy had gone from being calm, cool and collected to speaking with an ice-cold malevolence that sent chills down his spine.

“Jesus,” Jack said, rather appalled. “What did the guy do, kick your puppy or something? How have you not killed him already?”

The Vagabond’s sigh was almost a growl. “He’s a difficult mark. When he moves around outside he always has a few bodyguards on him. In more public settings he’s got a sniper of his own, watching his back. His people are loyal and would be quick to retaliate if anything ever happened to him, so if you take him out, you better make sure you get everyone close to him first. It’s fucking complicated okay?”

Geoff suspected it was more than just the complexity of the kill that was preventing the Vagabond from taking him out. Part of it he was sure, was that the Vagabond wanted to take Dragovic out with his own two hands and not from afar with a rifle. The other part, he imagined, had something to do with the young woman, Mica.

“The girl, his stepdaughter, Mica,” Geoff said quietly. “You sounded kinda unhappy when you said her name.”

The Vagabond’s shoulders fell a little. “She’s his insurance policy – the beloved daughter of the last boss of the Los Santos Family. Dragovic ran the Vice City branch of the Family before this, but he’s always had his eyes on LS.”

Jack knew more about the Family than Geoff did. She nodded along. “The guy who ran the Family in LS before, Burton, a lotta people liked him, I remember. So when he died suddenly…”

The Vagabond nodded. “Burton’s loyal underlings suspected Dragovic and wanted revenge. So Dragovic married Burton’s wife and took his daughter under his wing.”

Geoff was starting to understand. “Sick fucking bastard… so he keeps the girl and her mom close, so anyone who thinks about changing things up know that if they stir the pot, the blood of two innocent women will be on their hands… That’s one fucked up insurance policy, goddamn.”

“One innocent woman,” the Vagabond said quietly. “Someone already tried to usurp Dragovic once. Mica’s mother’s death was the result.”

“ _Fuck_. So that poor girl is basically his fucking hostage,” Jack swore, looking sick and enraged all at once. “ _Bastard_.”

“Maybe you can understand why I’m so… invested in putting an end to his reign. And why I need outside help to do it.”

Geoff nodded. “I mean yeah, I can get that. But I don’t know if we’re the right crew to fucking do that shit with. We aren’t exactly contract killers here, ya know?”

The Vagabond was quiet for a moment, considering. “I don’t need a crew of killers. Dragovic would never allow a gang of assassins into his home. Conversely, he wouldn’t allow a crew he considered nothing more than a bunch of 2 bit thieves into his home either. You’re crew is exactly the right kind, Geoff. You’re good enough to be an asset, but not strong enough to be threat. That’s part of why he’s so interested in you.”

“That’s why you chose us too then, isn’t it?” Jack asked, smiling knowingly.

“Maybe. The point is, I know it may not feel like it, but you’re in a good position right now. Don’t fuck it up. Do everything he asks you and in the meantime try to find another score. Dragovic likes crews who take initiative, and he’ll expect you to start earning for him soon.”

“Okay, yeah. We can do that, right Jack?” Geoff asked, trying not to let the magnitude of everything that was happening overwhelm him.

“Yeah,” Jack replied with a firm nod. “We should get started on the first thing he asked us to do right away.”

The Vagabond nodded as well. “I’m going to head out then. If and when you want to go after Dragovic, Gus knows how to get in contact with me.”

“So that’s it then? You’re just gonna fuck off?” Geoff asked. “You’re not gonna help us?”

The Vagabond tilted his head. “I’m not your guardian angel. I’ll help you take out Dragovic. But for anything else, I’m only in if you’re paying. I’ve used enough resources on keeping you and your crew alive. So try to make sure my efforts don’t go to waste.”

Jack snorted. “Just when I was starting to think you weren’t all that bad.”

“What’d you expect? I’m a contract killer. Can’t let the word get out that I’ve been giving away freebies,” the Vagabond replied, a note of amusement in his voice.

“Well then… I’ll need to ask the crew what they think about this whole fucking thing. I’m not gonna do anything they don’t wanna do, so I’ll see if they want to tackle this Dragovic thing and bring you on. Either way, we’ll let you know.”

The Vagabond nodded. “Fine by me.”

“I guess we’ll see each other around then,” Geoff said, stepping back.

“Don’t forget - make sure you don’t mention my name to Dragovic or anyone else in the Family.”

“Dude, we don’t even _know_ your name. But I get what you mean, don’t worry, we won’t blow your cover,” Geoff replied.

“Yeah,” said Jack. “We’re _real_ discreet.”

The Vagabond sighed. “Somehow I doubt that.”

And with that, he revved the engine of his Akuma and was off, disappearing down the long, dusty road.

 

* * *

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen! We are gathered here today to discuss the man, the myth, the legend, the one and only, Mr. Geoff Ramsey. I say, we keep things simple, I’m a simple man-”

“Yeah ya are,” Ray said with a sneer from his seat on the couch.

Michael and Jeremy sniggered. Geoff rolled his eyes.

The entire crew had gathered together at Geoff’s house once more. Only Gus was absent, along with Burnie who had left an hour earlier after Gavin reported his successful escape from the morgue. Everyone had taken seats in the kitchen and living room, looking rather grim faced and dour. Gavin, wanting to lighten the dark mood, decided to do what he did best; make an absolute spectacle of himself - much to the (mixed) delight and chagrin of the others.

“ _Thank you,_ Ray,” Gavin said in mock offense. “As I was saying, let’s keep it simple. We can… do a vote, or something. Write it down and put ‘em in a hat. Whose got one then?”

Michael crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. “Why the fuck do we need to do a vote? Are we voting Geoff off the goddamn island here Gavin? Jesus fucking Christ, lets just go around the fucking room and say whether we’re staying with the crew or fucking off. That simple. Idiot.”

“Michael, that’s the same thing, Michael! That’s exactly what I was saying!” Gavin replied, a whine to his voice.

“NO IT’S NOT! IT’S COMPLETELY DIFFERENT!”

“Michael! You’re being daft! It’s the same damn thing-”

“Alright, sit your little asses down before I have to start wringing some necks,” Geoff growled. “I’ve got some shit I wanna say before you vote me off the goddamn island. You know about me and the FIB, and Gavin’s filled you in on the shit that went down with them earlier tonight. We’ve pinned down the guy who was causing trouble for me and Burnie. It’s some dude, Biff Paddington, he’s the one who has it out for us. Sounds like he wants all the fame and recognition he’d get by exposing the deal we made all those years ago.”

“That don’t sound good,” Ray intoned.

“You are damn right it don’t,” Geoff replied tersely. “This Biff dude would be gunning for us, and I mean all of us, _hard_ , if it weren’t for the deal I just made. A deal I know some of you aren’t gonna be all too happy with.”

Michael sat up straight in his chair, glancing apprehensively between Geoff and Jack. “What deal?”

“A deal with Dragovic. We work for him, he keeps this rogue FIB fuck on a leash and away from us.”

There was a clamor as everyone began arguing at once. Michael was shouting, Kerry was complaining, Jeremy and Lindsay were questioning and Ray and Gavin were trying to placate everyone else.

“Hey!” Jack shouted suddenly. “Shut up, and _listen_ , okay?”

They quieted down, turning to look at Geoff. He was leaning forward in his seat, hands running anxiously through his hair. The dude looked pretty wrecked.

“Sorry Geoff,” Gavin whispered. “Go on, then.”

Geoff nodded towards Gavin in silent thanks. “I realize working with Dragovic was the exact fucking thing we’ve been trying to avoid, but… we’ve got limited options here. We can still earn with Dragovic, its not like all the money we would make from heisting would go to him. We’d still be making paper, just not as much. I don’t know about you guys, but being alive and still earning sounds a fair shake better than going to fucking prison.”

“True. But it’s still the mob, isn’t it?” Kerry asked. “Once we’re in, who knows what kinda shady shit he’ll start asking us to do. That’s what I’m worried about, more than anything.”

The other nodded along in agreement.

“Understandable. That’s why we’ve got sort of a… third option here,” Geoff said cautiously, glancing around the room.

“Third option?” Jeremy asked. “This has something to do with-”

“The Vagabond, yeah,” Geoff answered quickly. “He wants to take down Dragovic and the whole goddamn Family, if he can. He thinks we’re his ticket in. It’d take time, and planning, and we’d still have to work for Dragovic in the meantime, but the long-term goal would be to take the guy out, set up someone else in his place. Someone with no close ties or loyalties to Dragovic so we know we’ll be left alone.”

“Fuck,” Michael swore. “I mean, I’m all for gunning down that mobster bitch, but we’d also have to take out that FIB fuck as well, right? He’s got dirt on us and Dragovic’s the only thing standing between us and a fucking prison sentence.”

Gavin didn’t miss how Michael used “us” and instead of “you.” He found himself smiling, slightly. “We can do that though, can’t we boi? Look at what I did today, and that was just me! I took out a bunch of their shoddy agents. The FIB is not all that its cracked up to be, really.”

Michael shrugged. “Maybe, it’s still complicated as fuck though.”

“It is,” Geoff agreed. “So I’m going to leave it to you guys to decide. I won’t hold it against you if you want out. I’ll do my best to protect your identities if I ever get got, and I promise you can walk free with no retaliation or any shit like that. So! What’s it gonna be?”  

“You already know I’m in, dude,” Ray replied with a smirk. “Not gonna bitch out now.”

“Me too, I’ll stick around,” Gavin agreed.

“Thanks guys,” Geoff said gratefully. “Anyone else?”

“I won’t say I’m not scared shitless, but sticking with you guys has done good things for me so far… so yeah, I’m still in,” Jeremy said with a firm nod.

“Well I’m not scared, it’s just…” Michael sighed in exasperation, looking more uneasy than Gavin had ever seen him. “You know what, fuck it, I’m in. What do I got to lose at this fucking point anyway?”

Gavin frowned with concern. “Michael…”

“What?” Michael snapped. “I said I’m in, than I’m in.”

“Kerry, Lindsay,” Jack asked. “You know I’m in, what about you guys?”

“This whole thing is fucking scary as hell… but _goddamn_ do I need that money. Fuck me, I’m in… I guess,” Kerry responded, sounding equal parts tentative and determined.

“Thanks Kerry,” Geoff said, nodding towards her. “And Lindsay, I know you don’t have a strong attachment to this crew. Jack brought you on to help out, so I won’t ask you to put your neck out for a bunch of strangers, but you should know this. You saved our asses on that last heist, and while your connections to the gunrunning business don’t fucking hurt, its your skill that I’m impressed with. If you wanna stick around, I’m sure we’d all love to have you.”

Jack nodded along, patting Lindsay on the back with a grin. The whole crew, save Michael, who was looking grumpy, seemed to be in agreement.

Lindsay beamed. “You know what? Dragovic can suck my dick. Me and my big guns are in.”

The crew laughed as she flexed dramatically in demonstration.

“Alright then,” Geoff said, snorting. “Thanks for sticking around you little shits. So that just leaves the matter of the Vagabond. If you’re all in, we need to decide if we wanna work with him to take Dragovic out, or go it alone.”

That seemed to sober them up quickly enough.

“We met with him today. He’s not the nicest guy around, but he’s competent, and seems to know a lot about the Family. I’m not saying we should trust him, or anything, just that I buy his reasons for going after them enough that I don’t think he’ll fuck us over if we’re both after the same thing,” Jack said resolutely.

“And to be honest,” Geoff added. “I’d rather have him as an ally than an enemy. We’d have to pay him if we want him to help out with anything not strictly Dragovic related, but he’s got skill, so he’s a decent investment in the long run. But again, up to you guys. If you aren’t into it I’ll tell him to take a hike.”

“Yeah right,” Jack said teasingly.

“Alright, I’d politely tell him we weren’t interested, or whatever, don’t embarrass me in front of my friends _Jack_ ,” Geoff whined.

“Pshht.” She rolled her eyes. “So, hands up if you’re down to get chummy with one of the most notorious killers on the planet!”

Jack raised her own hand and Geoff followed suit. The others glanced at each other apprehensively for a few moments, before slowly, one by one, they all began to raise their hands as well.

“Man do we all have a death wish or what?” Ray asked sarcastically.

“Maybe,” Geoff agreed. “But we also got ourselves a legitimate fucking crew here, ladies and gents! A crew of weirdos and freaks, but a crew all the same!”

“Freaks!” Kerry cried in faux offense.

“Oh yeah, we are freaks for sure,” Geoff said with a nod. “I mean, look at us! We got you, a drug-pushing paramedic, a pyromaniac pyrotechnician–”

Michael shrugged in resigned agreement.

“-Nerdlord extreme over there-” Geoff added, pointing to Ray.

“Present and accounted for,” Ray replied dryly.

“The British prick,” Geoff said, nodding towards Gavin. “Big-Guns Barbie–”

“Heyo!” Lindsay called with a grin.

“- Daddy’s little nightmare-” he motioned towards Jeremy who huffed out a laugh.

“Oh, and lets not forget the queen of the goddamn desert over here.” He gave a mock bow towards Jack. “Me, the grade A asshole-” Geoff said, gesturing towards himself.

“-and now we’ve got an actual skull-faced demon from hell on our side, so yeah, I’d say “freaks” just about covers it.”

“But we’re freaks who are gonna conquer the goddamn world together, right?” Jack asked with a searing grin.

“Damn right!” said Gavin cheerfully. “Let’s bring it in now, come on hands in the circle, don’t be a lump, Kerry, get up!”

He jostled them all up of the couch. They shuffled reluctantly towards the middle of the room. Gavin put his hand out, waiting expectantly.

After a moment, Geoff placed his hand on top of Gavin’s with a longsuffering sigh. “Humor the kid for god’s sake, he had to pretend to be a corpse today and I think the drugs Kerry gave him messed him up real good.”

Gavin pouted for a moment before the others finally joined in, smirking in fond exasperation.

“To the new crew!” Gavin cried.

“To making fucking bank!” Ray exclaimed.

“To not fucking dying,” Michael chimed in with a snort.

“To fucking over the mob, the FIB and any other motherfucker who stands in our way,” Geoff replied with a note of finality.

They threw their hands in the air with sarcastic but excited cheers. Joking aside, no one could deny that they were starting something, something real. Whatever hell was barreling towards them at full speed, they’d have to face it head on, together and united as a real fucking crew.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little late! I was working all day yesterday and passed out once I got home! The final chapter of Part Two! I'll probably start posting Part Three, "The Wolf at the Door" later in the weekend. Thanks again everyone for reading and commenting! It's great to hear from you!
> 
> Chapter Title Song:  
> The Corpse Rises by Scientist (GTA 3)
> 
>  
> 
> Ask me anything on  
> [tumblr!](http://noxren.tumblr.com/)


	11. O Mio Babbino Caro

**The Devils You Know**  

Part Three

The Wolf At The Door

Chapter Eleven

O Mio Babbino Caro

 

Once upon a time, there was a great and powerful kingdom in a warm, sunny land by the sea. The kingdom was ruled by a strong but kind-hearted king, and a wise and gentle queen. Together, the king and queen had one daughter, the young princess, a funny and spirited girl who loved to laugh and play.

And even though the royal family lived happily and prosperously together in their beautiful kingdom for many years, all was not well. They lived in fear of a great and powerful Dragon from a faraway land, who coveted all that they had.

The Dragon ruled over its own kingdom in a distant swamp, but it craved more – more territory, more wealth and always more power. Each day, it flew closer and closer to their beloved kingdom, circling overhead like a dark omen.

Then one day, when the king and his family thought they were safe and sound, asleep in their beds, the Dragon came for them. Fire rained down upon their home, and the Dragon and his knights stormed the castle. The family’s closest friends and allies fought valiantly, but they were overwhelmed by the strength and force of their enemies.

One by one, they fell.

Finally, there was no one left to protect the royal family. Everyone who had fought was dead, the rest had fled for their lives.

The Dragon tore the castle apart, and pulled them from their chambers. They stood before the terrible beast, trembling in their sleeping clothes, crying and afraid. The Dragon’s claws were covered in the blood of their loved ones.

There was nothing they could do.

The King stepped forward, facing the Dragon.

“You can kill me, but please, spare my family!” the King begged, falling to his knees.

Behind him, his beloved wife and daughter sobbed and pleaded for him to stop.

But the King was brave, and good, and the Dragon was prideful and cruel.

And in this story, the brave and the good so rarely triumphed over evil.

“Very well,” said the Dragon, raising his claw to the sky.

So the Queen and the Princess watched as the Dragon cut down the great King with one swipe of his mighty claw. The Queen fell to her husband’s side. The Princess could only cry out for her father, over and over again.

The Dragon took the castle for himself. He built up the stolen kingdom again, filling it with his own loyal knights, all ready and willing to follow his every whim.

He took the Queen for his bride, and called the Princess his daughter. The Queen bore it all with silent determination. The Princess spat in the Dragon’s face, filled with fury and fire of her own.

The Dragon never harmed the princess, but he came close, when she screamed and screamed and screamed and wouldn’t stop, he raised his claw towards her and –

\- struck the Queen instead.

The Princess learned to bare it all with silent determination then, too.

The next few months were filled with nothing but loneliness and torment for the Queen and Princess. They feared they would remain captives of the evil Dragon forever, until one fateful day, the Princess’s heart filled with hope once more.

Someone, a brave but unknown knight came to the castle to slay the Dragon and save the Queen and the Princess. He fought tooth and nail to breach the castle walls, cutting down dozens of the Dragon’s men. Soon the brave knight reached the Dragon, brandishing his weapon with determination.

The Dragon looked upon the knight with something akin to shock.

“You…” the beast hissed furiously.

It seemed they had encountered each other before, and that realization filled the Dragon with a fierce, unstoppable rage.

It was then that the monster did something unthinkable.

He held his claw against the Queen’s throat.

“Move, and she dies,” snarled the beast.

The knight went still, watching as the Queen and the Princess stared back at him in abject terror. His next move was uncertain.

“Please,” the Princess cried desperately. “Help us!”

The knight could not bear to ignore the plea for help. He moved to strike, but the Dragon was stronger, and faster.

The terrible beast slashed the Queen’s throat without a second thought, and then struck the knight down, gravely injuring him.

The Princess leapt into action, grabbing a hold of the Dragon, screaming and crying, telling the knight to run.

Bleeding and barely conscious, the knight leapt through the castle window and disappeared.

Whether the brave knight lived, or died, the Princess never knew. She didn’t blame him for the Queen’s death. She knew that her mother’s blood was on the terrible claws of the wicked Dragon, and not on the hands of the knight who had tried to save them.

And even though the trapped, lonely princess was filled with such terrible sadness, she did not give up.

She hardened her heart. She learned to fight, with fists and swords and arrows.

And more importantly, she learned to lie.

The Dragon was a proud and greedy creature, who loved to be praised and made to feel powerful. Though it made the princess sick to her stomach, she found a way into the Dragon’s heart.

Slowly, the Dragon began to trust her. He loved to spoil her, calling her the brightest Jewel in his crown. He gave her lavish gowns, glittering gemstones and beautiful chariots, and even her own castle.

She gained more freedom too, being allowed to explore outside the castle and into the surrounding villages on occasion.

Though always, the Dragon sent his own knights with her, to watch and guard her.

She could not escape, at least not yet.

But her chance came, one day, when one day, when her castle was torn down.

It was not a knight in shining armor who appeared beneath the balcony, but a rather bedraggled ruffian.

The Dragon was furious with the ruffian, for destroying what was "his" - even if it was an accident.

A vandal, a hooligan, a thief, was what the Dragon called him. The Princess pitied the poor man. The Dragon did not take kindly to those who ruined his things.

Strangely though, the Dragon did not cut the thief down. Instead, he sent the thief away, to steal something valuable and shiny for his horde.

The Dragon always did like valuable and shiny things. The thief was oddly charming, and his skills were of great interest to the Dragon. The Princess watched as the beast began to trust the thief and his motley band of robbers, even inviting them into his castle.

The Princess was clever, and did not miss the way the thief’s gang looked at the Dragon. The monster’s knights were all fiercely loyal, and they looked upon him with awe and reverence and a terrifying sort of zeal. The robbers saw the Dragon for what he was, an evil thing of horrors and terrors.

She did not miss the way they looked at her, either, with such sadness and pity.

Maybe the Princess wasn’t as alone as she thought.

Maybe, just maybe, there were people out there who might help.

Either way, it was time for the Princess to save herself.

 

* * *

 

Jack Pattillo didn’t know who her father was, or her mother, for that matter. She had grown up in foster care and group homes, never settling in enough to really consider anyone “family”.

She thought that that was the way it was going to be her whole life.

Until she met Geoff.

He had just moved from Alabama to Texas, and had transferred into her 9th grade class in the middle of the year. No one thought much of the scrawny, mouthy kid in his ratty t-shirts and scuffed-up shoes. Jack certainly hadn’t, at first.

But then, they had been assigned to work on some dumb history project about the founding fathers together. Instead of researching, they spent hours slacking off in Geoff’s stepfather’s basement, playing video games and talking shit. It was a match made in hell, and from that moment on, they were inseparable.

They stirred up trouble together – doing everything from egging houses on Halloween to getting drunk off stolen beer and nicking candy bars and dirty magazines from the convenient store. When they weren’t up to no good they were setting off firecrackers in the empty lot behind the Gas & Go and riding dirt bikes through the desert trails at the edge of AC and just driving around, singing along to the shitty pop songs they blasted out of the radio of Jack’s old beater.

Jack knew there weren’t a lot of options out there for kids like her. Most of the kids who were raised in the system graduated from one institution to another – government run group home to government run prison. Jack was determined to make something more of herself.

But she didn’t have a family to fall back on for support like Geoff. She had to make her own way. After going through AFROTC in high school, she joined the military – the air force - after graduating. It sucked hard knowing the reign of Jack and Geoff would be over, but her options were limited. Geoff would stick with her, working shit jobs for shit pay in Achievement City until the end of goddamn time if she let him. She had to go where he wouldn’t follow, and Geoff was not exactly the military kind of guy.

Except when he was.

The bastard ended up joining up a few months after her, getting involved in military journalism. They didn’t exactly have a lot of time to see each other, but it didn’t feel like they were worlds away anymore at least.

It didn’t last long.

Jack got kicked out, something about being “mentally fucking unstable” or some other goddamn nonsensical bullshit.

Her military days were over, which was a shame, cause _damn_ , did Jack love to fly.

Geoff could have gone on without her, risen up in the ranks, made a name for himself. But he was Geoff. And she was Jack. They stuck together, no matter what. So he did something stupid, and got himself kicked out too.

The dangerous duo reunited once more, they did the only thing that was left for two kids with no money, no prospects and no friends but each other in the small, desert, town – they decided to wreak a little havoc.

They started small, boosting cars, robbing ATMs and running drugs. They got richer, and their little enterprise grew. They brought other fellow ne’er-do-wells into their crew, some grifters like Joel, or scammers like Gus. Eventually they moved on to bigger hits, stealing from some private residents, and than convenient stores and eventually banks.

They were the Achievement Hunter Crew. Jack had just wanted to call themselves the Achievement City Crew, while Geoff had wanted to call themselves something “cool” like the Rebels or the Hunters. They met in the middle.

They were the kings and queens of Achievement City, for a small time. They ruled together as equals, sharing in everything. Jack had never been happier. She didn’t need a family, at least one not related by blood. She had made a family of her own, close friends and allies tied together with bonds made of much stronger stuff.

At least, that was what she had thought.

The old crew was gone, the remnants scattered across state lines and county jails and dirt holes in the ground. She never thought she’d ride or die for anyone the way she did Geoff and the original Achievement Hunters, but here she was, quite literally riding and possibly dying – all for Geoff’s new crew of rookies.

Jack was currently zooming through the Arthur’s Pass trails on a Sanchez, in hot pursuit of the Air Emu plane that was desperately trying not to crash as it soared, engines smoking, overhead.

Geoff had managed to shoot the plane with a high-powered sniper rifle mounted on a truck that Dragovic had left for him at the Observatory. After taking down the plane in less than four shots, Geoff had been forced to take off, being called in for another private meeting with Dragovic.

As soon as the plane had started to go down, Jack had gotten on her bike, following the crashing aircraft on its way down.

Onboard the plane was apparently a former friend of Dragovic’s a friend who had decided to leak sensitive information about the Family and Dragovic to an outside source. Dragovic had tasked them with shooting down the plane, retrieving the highly incriminating documents and of course, killing the snitch, all before the plane made its landing in the Los Santos International Airport.

It seemed an impossible task, made even more impossible by the fact that Dragovic had split up the crew, sending Michael, Gavin, Lindsay and Jeremy off to track down some fancy super cars for him. That left Ray and Kerry with Geoff and Jack. Kerry was keeping pace with Jack along the highway while Ray hacked into Air Traffic Control, listening in so he could figure out where the pilot was intending to land so he could direct Jack.

Jack felt like the job they had been given was almost too difficult…

But the Vagabond had warned them; the first job would be more of a test than anything. Dragovic wanted the new crew to prove their worth.

She hated the idea of working for the shady mobster, but she hated the idea of being seen as incompetent rookies even more.

As always, Jack Pattillo pressed forward.

The plane was cascading downwards. In her ear Jack could just barely hear Ray relaying instructions to her over the sound of the Sanchez rumbling beneath her. The plane was veering off into the country, towards the mountains. Up ahead, there was a road that wound through the mountainside cutting straight across her path. Jack revved the engine and peeled forward, hitting a mound of dirt and flying over the road with a whoop of both fear and delight.

“Jack, you sound like you are getting up to some nonsense out there,” Ray intoned.

“Who me?” Jack asked innocently, tearing down the mountain. “Absolutely not, I’m a no nonsense kind of girl.”

“Sure you are. Try to keep the nonsense to a minimum. Geoff gave me the important and vital task of babysitting your wayward ass so –”

“What?” Jack cried, offended. “He asked _YOU_ to babysit _ME_? First of all, you’re like… twelve –”

“Twelve and a half,” Ray interjected.

“-and second of all, I’m the goddamn professional here! You two are the fucking greenhorns! And Geoff told _me_ to look after you two little shits! That asshole!”

“If it makes you feel any better, he told me to babysit Ray, so ya know, I think this is some kind of weird, three way babysitting triangle we have going on here…” Kerry piped up, sounding thoughtful.

“Jesus Christ,” Jack sighed. “Alright, how’re we doing, pilot still fixing to head north-ish?”

“Yup, pilots taking her away from the airport, sounds like he’s gonna try to put her down out in the desert somewhere to avoid hurting anyone. Luckily there are only two people on board…” Ray replied.

“Two people we’re gonna have to put down, if they survive the crash,” Kerry said darkly. “He’s still flying right?”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “Pilots fighting it, but he’s definitely going down. I’m back on the road, heading past the Alamo Sea Airfield, looks like he missed it. I’ll cut across the dirt roads and see if he’ll put it down in one of the fields up ahead.”

Jack cruised forward, cutting across the airfield, tossing up a river of dust behind her. Just ahead, Jack heard the distinct sound of a train horn blaring. She spotted one chugging along the tracks, just in front of her. The plane was already dangerously close to landing, and she couldn’t afford to waste time, waiting for the train to go by.

“Ray?” she asked into her headset.

“Oh god,” he responded uneasily. “What now?”

“There’s a small matter of having to jump a moving train…” she said, pressing into the gas.

“Jack, what did I just say about the nonsense?”

“I can’t recall, you’ll have to refresh me after I make this sick jump! Front flip for style!” she cried as she took the jump, soaring over the train.

“No! Bad Jack! No front flips for style!” Ray chastised. “Fuck, are you alive?”

She laughed. “I’m still kicking! You really need to learn to live a little, Ray!”

“Nah, I’m good. You do enough living for the both of us, I imagine,” he replied.

“Hey guys, sounds like almost all systems in the plane are down, expect a touch down soon!” Kerry cried suddenly.

“Hopefully the plane don’t take out some poor farmer out here,” said Ray.

Jack took a turn, cutting through Sandy Shores, she was just a few blocks down from her home and Joel’s. Hopefully he and Adam were keeping busy with the business. At least after her take down of the Flynts, the Hornets and the Banshees her boys hadn’t run into much more trouble from the locals.

“Only thing we farm out here is methamphetamine!” Jack called.

“Ah, Jack Pattillo country,” Ray sighed.

“God I miss it out here! You got to come visit sometime, you guys and the whole crew, see how we desert people run things. Kerry, you can even take some of my product out to the Hills, give away some free samples to those anesthetized plastic numpties!”

Kerry giggled. “I’ll think about it! I think you’re stuff’ll blow their minds, or make them shit their pants. Or both.”

Jack took another turn onto the Senora Freeway, the plane was surging freely downward now, getting read to land in the fields along the roadside. The plane hit the ground, skidding forward with force, black smoke pouring out.

“They’re in the dirt!” Jack cried.

“Okay!” Ray replied. “Get the files, and if Dragovic’s snitch made it, take him out!”

Jack pulled up to stop along the wreckage. Parts of the plane were already consumed by smoke and flame. She leapt off of the bike, pulling out her pistol. She had to move fast before the crash landing drew a scene.

“Goddamn, Dragovic better pay up good for this,” Jack muttered.

She kept her bike helmet on to avoid breathing in the acrid smoke. The front part of the plane was still intact. Jack stilled her breath, listening.

Faintly, she could hear moaning coming from the inside of the plane.

_Fuck._

Upon approaching the plane, she could see the pilot, dead or unconscious, still in his seat. The second passenger, Dragovic’s snitch, had managed to free himself from the wreckage. He had dragged his broken body out of the smoldering ruins.

The guy was covered in blood and dirt, his face a mottled, bruised wreck. Underneath his chest, he was clutching tight to a brief case – presumably the one containing the damning documents he was meant to deliver to his contact waiting at the LS airport.

When the man spotted Jack, he called out to her feebly.

“Help me!”

Jack stepped forward, standing over him. He must have thought he was staring up at his saving grace – an angel with a halo of red hair.

Jack was no angel. Today, she was the grim goddamn reaper.

She aimed her gun at his head and pulled the trigger. The guy slumped forward into the dirt, and she carefully knelt beside him, tugging the briefcase out of his clutches.

Finally, she grabbed her phone, lifting the dead man’s head up by his hair, she snapped a picture of his face, just as Dragovic had requested. She texted it to the number he had given her and then deleted the grisly image from her phone.

“I think I got the case. It’s code locked, but this has got to be it,” she said quietly into the comms. “Guy was holding it like his damn life depended on keeping it safe.”

“Good, I’d hightail it out of there, then,” Ray replied. “You okay?” he added, a little more softly.

“I’m okay,” Jack affirmed. “I’m always okay.”

 

* * *

 

Lindsay had not spoken to her father in years. Not since he had taken off when she was a kid, frustrated with her mother for refusing to abandon the gunrunning business she had inherited from her own father. He had disappeared to his parents’ ranch in Texas one day with little more than a note. Lindsay had chosen to stay with her mother.

She wondered sometimes, what her father would think of her if he saw her now.

He would definitely not approve of her most current engagement – sitting atop a stolen police motorcycle while impersonating an officer of the law so she and the crew could steal a couple of supped-up supercars for the goddamn mob.

But she didn’t have to answer to her father now, or her mother or anyone else. Lindsay Tuggey was her own woman who made her own decisions, and today, she had decided that the greatest way to steal cars from a couple of spoiled trust fund kids was with only the best kind of trickery.

Lindsay and Michael had parked their stolen bikes on the roadside of Grapeseed Avenue. They were currently both dressed in beige highway patrol uniforms, waiting to fake arrest the kids who owned the two super cars that Dragovic so desperately desired.

Upon meeting the mobster for the first time, he had given the crew a list of fast and fancy cars that he wanted them to “procure” for him. He was something of a collector it seemed. Jeremy and Gavin, being the most versed in the industry of grand theft auto, had poured over the list for hours, brainstorming on how they were going to track down the chosen vehicles.

The easiest two to track down were the Grotti Cheetah and the Överflöd Entity XF, both fully modded. Gavin had enlisted the help of his friend Dan who worked in some sort of car theft ring disguised as a repo business.

They managed to find a pair of brothers who owned both car models -brothers who both happened to be quite fond of street racing in the desolate northern roads.

So together they hatched the plan to nail the two rich boys while they were racing their speedy, shiny toys. Lindsay and Michael would pose as cops while Gavin and Jeremy would track them down in a super car Jeremy had stolen. The boys would challenge the brothers to a street race and herd them towards Lindsay and Michael, who would fake arrest the wayward youths and “requisition” their rides.

Now all they had to do was wait.

“Officer Tuggey and Officer Jones, we’re coming in hot, you in position?” came Gavin’s voice over the comms.

Michael grunted a yes into his microphone after revving his engine. In Gavin’s words he had been a bit of a “mingy little bastard” all day.

“We’re ready and waiting!” Lindsay responded, starting her bike as well.

A few seconds later, they saw the Cheetah and Entity come speeding down the road, two blurs of blue and orange. Trailing behind them was a red Ocelot F620, Jeremy at the wheel and Gavin whooping excitedly from the passenger’s seat.

“Lets nail these motherfuckers,” Michael growled, taking off.

Together they pulled onto the freeway running past Mount Gordo, blaring their sirens.

The cars zoomed on by, weaving easily in and out of traffic.

“Fuck, they’re too far ahead, we have to catch up to them if we want them to stop!” Lindsay called to Michael.

“Then put some pep in your fucking step Lindsay!” Michael shouted back to her. “You’re falling behind!”

He sped past her and Lindsay clutched the gas, trying to keep pace. Up ahead, the Cheetah and the Entity slipped over the median into the wrong side of traffic, heading towards the tunnel that cut through the mountain. Jeremy almost missed the turn off, but he managed to glide through to the other side just in time, narrowly missing the onslaught of cars.

“Suspect has entered the Braddock Tunnel! Officers Free and Dooley are maintaining their pursuit!” stated Gavin in a mockery of an authoritative voice.

“Hey you two fucks aren’t officers! Me and Lindsay are the only ones in these cheesy fucking getups!” Michael shouted back, following Gavin and Jeremy into the darkness of the tunnel.

“Maybe they can be undercover cops?” Lindsay suggested.

“Oooh, yeah, we’re like, secrets agents or something! Hot on the trail!” Gavin replied with delight.

Michael growled into his mic. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“And you’re a grouchy grumpus!”

“Dumbass!”

“Bitch!”

“Seriously guys?” Jeremy sighed. “Can we not?”

Lindsay caught up to Michael as they peeled out of the tunnel. The cars either hadn’t noticed their pursuit or were willfully ignoring them.

“They don’t look like they’re slowing down!” Lindsay called. “We got to get closer!”

“When I catch these assholes!” Michael roared in frustration.

“We’re entering Paleto Bay!” Jeremy cried. “You should be able to gain some ground on them, traffics a lot heavier!”

“Or we could just shoot out their fucking tires,” Michael replied.

“There’s an idea!” Gavin said with relish. “Though I don’t think Dragovic would appreciate that. Hey! Do you reckon the Vagabond could snipe their tires from the top of Mount Chiliad? That’d be top!”

“I don’t fucking know, Gavin, I’ve never met the guy and neither have you!” Michael shouted.

“Well he’s supposed to be the best right? Bet he could do it. I’d pay money to see that.”

“Well why don’t you call him up then Gavin,” Michael replied, putting on a fake and obnoxiously bad English accent. “ _Oi Mr. Vagabond, come over here and snipe these here tires from the peak of this here mountain, it’d be tippity toppers, mate! Chip chip cheerio!_ ”

“I do _not_ sound like that,” Gavin grumbled.

“Eh, you kinda do,” Jeremy agreed.

“What!” Gavin cried. “Lindsay, I don’t sound like that do I?”

“Uhhh… well,” she stuttered. “Maybe a little?”

“Dammit!” Gavin swore as Michael laughed a little too harshly.

They finally reached Paleto Bay, a small coastal town nestled at the base of Mount Chilliad, surrounded by lush, green forests on one side and the rocky seaside on the other.

“We’re catching up,” Lindsay noted, seeing the blue and orange blurs drawing nearer.

“They’re still trying to make a break for it though,” Michael replied. “They probably are hoping Jeremy will pull over and take the heat for them.”

“Not gonna happen,” Jeremy responded with a laugh. “I am on these assholes!”

“Start using your megaphones! Maybe they’ll hear!” Gavin suggested.

Michael reached for his, but Lindsay stopped him.

“Maybe I should do it, Michael. I don’t think we’ll really sell the whole “real legitimate cop” thing to them if the first thing they hear is a string of expletives.”

“Fine, you do it then!”

She picked up her own megaphone, putting it to her lips. “This is the San Andreas Highway Patrol, find a safe place to stop and pull over, immediately! I repeat, pull over immediately!”

“Shit I think its working!” Jeremy called. “They’re slowing down!”

“Thank god!” Lindsay replied. “Make sure you pull over along with them, okay?”

“Sure thing!”

The Cheetah and the Entity finally slowed to a stop on the bride that cut across the bay, Jeremy stopping along with them in his F620.

“So,” Lindsay asked Michael, getting off the bike with a groan. “Good cop or bad cop?”

“What the fuck do you think?” Michael asked challengingly, hopping off his bikes and striding up Jeremy’s car. “We’ll deal with you two chumps later.”

Gavin made a rude gesture towards him as Michael strode past, towards the two trust fund kids waiting in their cars. Lindsay trailed behind.

Michael put his hand on the top of the blue Cheetah, leaning down to talk to one of the brothers, a douchey-looking kid in a snapback and oversized shades.

“You know how fast you were going?” Michael asked.

“Gee I dunno officer… I uh, try to keep it under the limit,” the kid replied.

“Well you and your boys here look like you were drag racing from where we were sitting there, so why don’t you get your asses out of the car?” Michael asked in a threating tone.

“You too punk, c’mon, lets go,” Lindsay said the kid in the orange Entity.

“Officer is this entirely necessary?” the kid whined as he clambered out.

“ _Officer is this entirely necessary_?” Michael mocked in nasally voice. “Yes, it is. Get down, hands on the car, and don’t cry about it.”

Lindsay had to practically yank her kid out of the car. The dude stumbled to the ground, shouting in protest. Deciding it was time to do away with the charade, Michael kicked the other kid’s legs out from under him.

Jeremy and Gavin leapt out of their car, helping Lindsay and Michael to drag the protesting kids away from their beloved rides. With a knee to the gut each from Michael, they quickly ceased their whining and fell down on the ground, moaning in pain.

Michael wrenched open the door of the orange Entity. “Me and J will take these cars back,” he said. “I don’t trust you or Gavin to drive them back in one piece. Later.”

He hopped into the car, slammed the door shut and took off without another word.

“Who pissed in his cornflakes?” Jeremy asked, climbing into the blue Entity.

“Dunno,” Gavin replied a little glumly. “See ya in a bit Lil’J.”

Jeremy nodded goodbye to them and then took off himself.

“I’ll drive,” Lindsay offered, moving to the driver’s side door of the remaining car.

Gavin simply nodded, silently getting into the passenger’s seat.

As Lindsay pulled out onto the freeway, she watched as Gavin detached his comms, turning the device off completely.

He eyed her with a significant look and she followed suit, flipping her comm off as well.

“What’s up?” she asked carefully.

“Michael,” Gavin replied.

“Michael? What do you mean, “Michael”?”

“He’s acting damn weird!” Gavin replied, voice hitching. “He’s been all sulky for the last few days, and at first I thought it was cause he was pissy with Geoff for the FIB stuff, but I asked him about it and he’s not even all that miffed. Something else is going on! Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Well,” she said, considering. “He’s pretty grumpy, and… angry, but I kinda figured that was just, like his personality, you know? Is he normally not like that?”

“Nah, he’s always a bad-tempered little bastard, but he’s normally not so, I dunno moody? And usually we can’t get him to shut the eff up, but recently he’s been kinda quiet and secretive. He keeps telling me to fuck off when ever I ask him about it! And he actually sounds like he means it! So I guess I was just wondering if you noticed anything weird today, after spending all that time with him…”

Gavin trailed off, sounding genuinely worried.

Lindsay hadn’t known the crew long, but the brief time she _had_ spent with them had allowed her to grasp at least some of their dynamics.

Ray was a deadpan snarker with a faux lazy stoner persona, Jeremy was the lovable goof, Kerry was kind but awkward, Gavin was curious and fun and pretended to be dumber than he was and Michael…

Michael projected an angry and reckless front, but beneath it all, he seemed loyal and fiercely protective of his crew.

Lindsay wasn’t sure _what_ she had noticed, exactly… but after spending the day stealing bikes and uniforms and riding out into the mountains with him, she couldn’t help but notice… something _off._

“Maybe,” she said quietly, tightening her grip on the wheel. “He kept getting phone calls and text messages while we were working. Each one he got seemed to make him more and more pissed off.”

Gavin sat up straighter in his seat. He ran a hand through his spiked blond hair, looking anxious. “Did he answer any of the calls?”

She nodded. “Just one.”

“Did you hear what he said at all?” he pressed.

“I missed most of it. We stopped at a rest stop on the road to change into our uniforms. I was just coming out the bathroom. He sounded super frustrated while he was talking. He ended with something like… “Fine, I’ll do it. Now leave me the fuck alone.” He hung up when he heard me coming, though.”

“Dammit!” Gavin hissed, rubbing at his face. “What could that even mean?”

Lindsay shrugged. “Honestly? No clue, I figured he was talking to someone else in the crew, I mean, its not necessarily something nefarious, right?”

“Maybe, but he’s been so damn… weird lately, and I’ve just got this bad feeling…” he trailed off, clutching his arms.

“You don’t think he’d betray the crew or anything, right?”

“No!” Gavin cried immediately. “I mean… I don’t think so… but I _have_ to find out what’s going on. It’ll drive me mad if I don’t. Will you help me?”

“Me? What do you want me to do?”

“I dunno, use your… womanly charms to distract him while I nick his phone?” Gavin asked, cringing at the words leaving his mouth.

“Pshht,” Lindsay replied with a snort. “Or you could use your… manly charms instead, who knows what floats his boat.”

“Fair play,” Gavin said, smirking. “Either way, I’m gonna figure this out. If something is going on, than I don’t want to say that I sat there and did nothing about it, you know?”

Lindsay couldn’t help but admire his dedication to keeping the crew safe. “Alright, if you’re that worried about it, I’ll help you out. Lets just keep it between us for now though, don’t want to freak anyone out if it turns out he’s just getting chewed out by his mom or something…”

“Thanks, Lindsay,” Gavin said sincerely, grinning. “Appreciate it.”

She smiled back. “No problem.”

 

* * *

 

The day her father died, Mica stopped believing in fairytales and started carrying a knife. She had once loved to read epic stories about heroes venturing out into the wild to save the world from some monstrous evil. In those tales, the hero struggled and fought, but they always won the day and the end, and if they were lucky they got to fall in love too.

And of course, the monster always died by the end of the book, slain courageously by the hero.

If her life were a story like the ones her parents once read to her, than the hero would have died long before the end. The monster would have stolen his love away for himself. Leaving the hero’s daughter, alone and afraid, to face the Dragon with nothing but a small, pink, butterfly knife.

The story, Mica feared, would not have a happy ending.

So instead, Mica was determined to write her own.

She found herself spending more and more time at Dragovic’s ranch in the hills, all in the hopes of catching the new crew who had been coming and going in droves as of late.

Mica had spoken to them a little, having seen the most of the crew’s leader, Geoff, and the woman who she assumed to be his second in command, a tall, red-haired woman called Jack.

Geoff was always polite and courteous, but he seemed too anxious to exchange much more than brief pleasantries with Mica. Jack on the other hand, seemed eager to engage in conversation with her. Geoff usually tugged Jack away before Mica could really talk with her, but she didn’t miss the looks of concern the other woman shot her way.

The other members of the crew, a little bit younger and a lot more nervous, seemed nice enough as well. Mica didn’t miss the way they stared at her when Dragovic wasn’t looking. They were worried about her too. She wondered if they had figured out what was going on – that she wasn’t really a valued member of the Family, but a prisoner in a gilded cage.

No matter what, at least _someone_ was sympathetic to her plight.

Someone out there cared.

Someone would help her.

They had to.

 

* * *

  

Geoff was waiting for Jack outside of Dragovic’s house. She had let Ray and Kerry wait in the van. The younger crewmembers hadn’t interacted with Dragovic as much, and were still wary around the mobster. Jack didn’t blame them; she and Geoff didn’t have the luxury of keeping out of the Dragon’s line of sight, not when they were representing the entire crew.

“Hey,” she said approaching Geoff. “You okay?”

Geoff looked tired as hell; through she could tell he had been trying to sort himself out for Dragovic’s benefit. His hair was combed, for once, and he was wearing a mostly clean button up with the sleeves rolled up.

“I’m fine,” he said a little roughly.

She knew he couldn’t say much more, not when they were still in shouting distance of Dragovic’s living room.

“We need to head back in?” she asked carefully.

Geoff shook his head. “Nah, that the briefcase?”

She held up the case, passing it over to him.

Geoff gestured for the one of the bodyguards to come over and take the case.

“The documents Dragovic wanted,” he said shortly.

The guard nodded, grabbing the case from him and disappearing inside.

“So we can head out?”

“Yeah. Michael and Jeremy dropped off two of the cars at Dragovic’s warehouse, so we’re good on that. And we’ve got a new assignment, I’ll fill you and the crew in when we get home.”

They started making their way towards the front gate.

As Jack was about to pull open the gate, she heard a voice call out from behind them.

“Wait!”

They turned to see Dragovic’s stepdaughter Mica, jogging towards them.

She stopped in front of them, a little flushed, eyes wide.

The guards were trailing behind her, looking stern and threatening.

“Relax,” Mica called back to them. “I’m returning his wallet!”

She wagged the pristine black, leather billfold in the air at them. The guard stopped short, watching them carefully.

Mica passed the wallet over to Geoff. Jack saw him reach back to pat his pocket, frowning.

“Thanks,” he said, quiet and uncertain, eyebrows knitted together.

She nodded, staring at him for a moment before her eyes moved to Jack.

“No problem,” Mica replied finally. “See you later?”

“Yeah,” Jack replied. “See you.”

They watched her walk slowly back, joined immediately by the two guards flanking her sides.

Jack led Geoff out to where Kerry and Ray had parked the van down the road.

Before they reached they others, Jack grabbed Geoff by the arm, eyeing him significantly.

“That’s not your wallet, is it?”

Silently, he pulled his own wallet out of his pocket. It was made of worn brown leather and was clearly well used compared to the brand new wallet Mica had passed him.

Jack watched as Geoff opened the new wallet, pulling a folded slip of paper out. He stared at it silently, frowning.

“What is it?” she asked impatiently.

He handed the paper over to her, looking grim.

The paper had just three words on it, three simple and dangerous words written in turquoise ink, in a neat, careful hand:

_Please help me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins Part Three! Thank you so much for reading and commenting! The next chapter should be up by wednesday! Have a great Labor Day!
> 
> Chapter Title Song:  
> O Mio Babbino Caro (Oh My Beloved Father) from Gianni Schicchi (GTA 3)


	12. Animal

** The Devils You Know **

Part Three

The Wolf At The Door

Chapter Twelve

Animal

  

There was a knock on the door.

The time had finally come for the rest of the crew to meet the notorious Vagabond.

Last night, Geoff, Jack, Ray and Kerry had returned to Geoff’s house to discuss Dragovic’s next assignment with everyone.

But first, they had a hell of bombshell to drop.

Dragovic’s stepdaughter Mica had slipped Geoff a note in secret, pleading with the crew to help her.

They all knew the young woman’s situation; Jack and Geoff had relayed it to them after their first proper meeting with the Vagabond.

It had seemed precarious for Mica back then, but now that she was actively asking them for their help, it was even more so.

The life of an innocent young woman was now in their hands.

So Jack had called a meeting of the whole crew. Gus, Lindsay - everyone had gathered together at Geoff’s house.

Including the Vagabond.

“So… whose gonna answer it?” Kerry asked anxiously, eyes wide.

Gavin, Lindsay and Jeremy were staring at the front door as if expecting the Vagabond to kick it down and storm in, brandishing his signature knife.

Michael, meanwhile, was dramatically rolling his eyes at them and Jack, Geoff and Gus were involved in a hushed but heated argument over in the corner of the room.

Ray went silently to the door.

No matter the guy’s reputation, the Vagabond was still just a man, a man who was, so far, on their side. Ray had to remind himself that if the Vagabond wanted the crew dead then they’d all be rotting away in their graves a long fucking time ago.

Slowly and cautiously, Ray opened the door.

It was jarring to see the Vagabond standing before him in broad daylight, tall and broad-shouldered, the sun at his back. The dark leather jacket and disturbing skull mask seemed ill suited to a world not cloaked in gloom and shadow.

“Uhh…sup dude,” Ray said quietly, trying to keep the nervous edge out of his voice. “C’mon in, I guess.”

He stepped aside and the Vagabond stepped in wordlessly, glancing around.

Jack, Geoff and Gus had finally wandered over. Jack looked annoyed, Geoff look drained and Gus looked grumpy.

For a moment, no one said a word as they took in the sight of the masked assassin standing calmly in Geoff’s foyer.

Ray found himself wondering, bizarrely, if the Vagabond was going to take his shoes off.

“So, uh… glad you could make it,” Jack said, breaking the heavy silence.

The Vagabond nodded.

“This is the crew, you’ve met us officially…” she trailed off, motioning to herself, Geoff and Gus. “Then there’s Ray, Kerry, Gavin, Lindsay, Jeremy and Michael.”

The crew nodded or waved vaguely in response to their names, looking uncomfortable and tense.

“So what do we call you? You got a name or is it just _the Vagabond_?” Michael asked rather confrontationally. “Or do you prefer _Creepy Skull-Faced Fucker_?”

Gavin and Kerry gawked at him in disbelief while Geoff looked ready to smother him. They all glanced anxiously at the Vagabond, trying to gage his reaction to the belligerent redhead’s obvious baiting.

“That’s _Mr._ Creepy-Skull-Faced-Fucker to you,” the Vagabond replied dryly, unfazed. “ _So_ , shall we get down to business?”

“Right,” Geoff said, clearly relieved that the Vagabond hadn’t decided to cut them all up into tiny little pieces. “Let’s do this.”

They gathered together in the living room, pulling in chairs from the kitchen to fit the whole crew.

“So,” said Geoff, once everyone had found seats. “We all know what this is about.”

“Damn right. We’re going after Dragovic,” Jack said with a feverish passion.

“Let’s not jump the gun,” Geoff replied, holding a placating hand towards her. “We _will_ go after him, but this needs thought and planning.”

“I’m not letting that girl stay there a minute longer than she has to. You assholes are acting like its hunky-fucking-dory for her to stay in that monster’s clutches!” Jack said, fire in her eyes.

“None of us are happy about this girl’s situation, Jack,” Gus responded. “But we need to play this safe.”

Ray nodded. “Yeah, I mean, we can’t exactly storm his house, guns blazing. We’ll get shot to shit, right?” he asked, glancing at the Vagabond.

“Pretty much,” the Vagabond replied.

“How many guards does he have at the ranch at any given time?” Jack asked in a rush, edging forward in her seat. “We’ve got what, ten people? I bet we could take them!”

“Nine,” Gus countered. “I’ll help you put together a plan but there is no way in hell I’m going into the Dragon’s Lair with you assholes.”

“Whatever,” Jack replied, lip curling. “There are still plenty of us. I could even get Adam and Joel to help out. We could do this, guys!”

The others looked unconvinced. Ray understood Jack’s frustration, and her eagerness to free Mica as quickly as possible, especially considering the young woman had risked her own safety to ask them for help…

But there was no way her plan would turn out well for any of them. Jumping the gun on taking out Dragovic wasn’t going to do them any favors.

“I’m sorry Jack,” Geoff said, voice soft and careful. “But there’s no way that plan doesn’t end with more than one of us dead. You heard the Vagabond tell us what happened the last time someone tried to spring Mica and her mom… if we’re not careful about this, we might end up getting her caught in the crossfire too.”

That at least, seemed to mollify Jack, at least a little.

She nodded, shoulders set and eyes still hard. “Fine. Any one have any better ideas? How about you oh wise and creepy Vagabond?”

Geoff looked ready to leap out of his skin. He put an arm on her shoulder in silent warning, but she quickly shook him off.

The Vagabond looked stoic and disaffected as ever as he replied. “This _does_ need to be planned carefully, but in the meantime, you can’t act like anything is wrong. It’ll just put the girl in even more danger if everyone is acting all anxious and upset. All of you need to calm down and keep a clear head. You want to be professionals? Act like it.”

“Fuck you,” Jack replied, getting riled up again. “She _asked_ us for _help_.”

“And we _will_ help her,” Geoff replied, trying to reign her in.

“But we can’t do that if we’re fucking dead and riddled with bullets,” Michael added.

Despite the harshness of his words, the others seemed to agree.

“In the meantime, keep doing whatever jobs he throws your way. What’s his next assignment?” the Vagabond asked.

Geoff sighed, his shoulders slumping. “He wanted us to kill some fucking district attorney he doesn’t like. Oh - and he gave the rookies over here a goddamn laundry list of expensive fucking cars he wants them to steal for him.”

The Vagabond nodded. “How’s that coming?”

“Uhh… well we got two done, still a couple more to go though. Some of them’ll be a bit tricky, but Jeremy got a lead on one of the hard ones already, so that’s good,” Gavin replied.

“Really?” Geoff asked. “Good work Lil’J.”

Jeremy grinned, pleased. “Yeah its a fucking sweet ride, if we didn’t have to give it up to Dragovic I’d say we should keep it for the crew. It’s the JB 700, you know the one that’s in all those Jace Boon spy movies? It’s gonna be on a film set in Backlot City today, actually. I figure we should move on now before it goes back into storage.”

“You should get on that right away then,” the Vagabond suggested, nodding towards Jeremy.

“Shouldn’t we all be here to plan, though?” Jeremy asked, glancing Geoff’s way.

“I s’pose its better to get it done with quick as we can right?” Geoff replied.

“Dragovic will notice if you’re entire crew takes a day off. I can give you, Jack and Gus as much information as I can about Dragovic while the others work on getting the cars,” said the Vagabond.

“Okay,” Geoff said with a nod. “Jeremy - you can take the others with you to get the JB 700.”

“I think I should stick around to help out too. Maybe I can dig something up,” Ray added.

The Vagabond turned to look at him. Ray had to stop himself from flinching slightly.

“You’re the hacker?” the Vagabond asked him.

“Yup, I got my stuff with me, I don’t know how much I can do, but I figure it’s worth a try.”

“Alright,” the Vagabond replied shortly. “Let’s get to it.”

They all nodded along, seemingly rather eager to get away from the Vagabond’s intimidating presence. Ray stood to gather his things, waving everyone off.

“Good luck out there,” Geoff said as Jeremy got up to leave with the others. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“This whole fucking thing is stupid,” Michael muttered, leading the way. “But we’re goddamn doing it anyway.”

 

* * *

 

Somehow, Kerry and Jeremy ended up at Backlot City alone.

Michael had dashed off almost immediately after walking out the front door of Geoff’s house. He had said something about there being a problem back at his apartment that he needed to take care. He took off in his Gauntlet with little more than a “ _You guys got this right? See ya_!”.

Of course, as soon as Michael had pulled out of the driveway, after exchanging mysteriously significant looks with one another, Lindsay and Gavin had taken off in Lindsay’s modest grey Granger. Whatever they were up to, they said they were sorry but it was so vitally important that they had to go and do it _right fucking now_.

So Kerry and Jeremy were left with the task of stealing quite possibly one of the most famous cars in Vinewood history from a busy movie studio in broad daylight – all alone.

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

They had managed to climb over the high walls surrounding the studio, dropping down into a parking lot area that was mostly empty. They found a hiding place behind some dumpsters and crouched down to figure out their plan to steal the JB 700.

“Okay, so today they’re filming a scene where Jace Boon is running to his car with Goldie Goodpenny to escape a bunch of goons with guns, so the car will be on one of the outdoor sets up front for a while,” Jeremy whispered, glancing at his phone.

Kerry knew he had browsed online forums for fans of the movie for hours, looking for information on when they could strike.

“But they only let principal actors and stunt people near the car, if we try to get anywhere near it, security is gonna make us,” Kerry replied. This was the part of the plan that they hadn’t quite figured out yet.

“I mean, we could always bum rush em?” Jeremy suggested, not sounding entirely sure of himself. “Just blast in, take the car and blast out.”

Kerry shrugged. “Maybe… are we even sure this is the real JB 700? Don’t they have like, a thousand fake ones lying around?”

“They do, but trust me, I like… quadrupled checked on this one. They’re gonna be filming a scene where Boon uses the gun attachments and caltrops dispensers on the car right after, and only the real car is outfitted with all the extra bells and whistles.”

“If only we could use the car to get to the car, all that shit would come in handy…” Kerry sighed.

“Yeah, no kidding… I know you’re not a fan of brute forcing it but maybe…” he trailed off, glancing around. “Did you hear something just now?”

Kerry narrowed her eyes, looking around too. “No…? What do you-”

“Shhh…. Wait,” Jeremy whispered, holding up his hand.

Kerry quieted, listening intently.

And then she heard it.

A soft voice, whispering…

“Pssst!”

Jeremy’s eyes widened. “You heard it right?”

Kerry nodded. “Did someone just “pssst” us?”

There came another soft “pssst” and then a whistle. Kerry turned towards where she thought the sound was coming from and spotted something rather… bizarre.

A hand was waving at her… from one of the dumpsters in the lot.

“What. The. Fuck,” Jeremy intoned.

The frantic waving continued. She was definitely not hallucinating.

“Shit,” Kerry hissed. “Better go over there before someone notices. Get your gun ready just in case…”

Jeremy nodded, pulling out his pistol. They checked their surroundings briefly before quickly making their way across the lot. Grabbing the lid of the dumpster, Jeremy yanked it open, shoving his gun through the crack.

“Who’s there?” he demanded in his most menacing voice.

“Woah!” came the voice from inside the dumpster. “Chill out Jeremy! It’s me!”

Jeremy flipped the lid open completely, letting the sunlight illuminate the person crouched within.

A rather nondescript man emerged, pulling himself out of the dumpster and crouching beside them. He was young and thin, with short black hair and a pale olive complexion. With his clean clothes, leather messenger bag and fancy camera slung around his neck, the guy didn’t exactly look like the dumpster diving type.

“Trevor?!” Jeremy exclaimed in confusion.

The young man grinned. “It’s been a while!”

“I… take it you know this dude?” Kerry asked, perplexed.

Jeremy shrugged vaguely, sighing. “This is Trevor Collins. And he’s not my friend or anything… he’s a piece of shit paparazzi… but I guess I sort of know him.”

“Aww,” Trevor pouted. “I went to your house. You gave me donuts. That practically makes us BFFs.”

“You snuck into my yard to take photos of my dad and I threw donuts at you until you left!”

“No you _invited_ me over cause I offered to pay you to sneak me in so I could get unflattering photos of your dad cause you were pissed off at him, if I recall correctly. And you _dropped_ the donuts, but we were definitely sharing them. Like friends.”

“ _Ugh_. A time of my life I’d prefer to forget,” Jeremy muttered.

“Dude, you wasted donuts?” Kerry asked.

“Never mind about the donuts!” Jeremy hissed. “Trevor, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Um, my job?” Trevor replied. “What are _you_ doing here? I’d have figured your dad got you a cameo or something but last I checked you were on the outs. I saw that morning show by the way… pretty brutal.”

“Uhhh...well…” Jeremy trailed off, glancing wide at Kerry for an explanation.

Trevor laughed. “Relax. I know why you’re here. I heard you talking about the JB 700.”

“What did you hear, exactly?” Jeremy asked carefully.

“Enough to know that I’m in. I can help you steal it.”

Kerry shook her head. “Absolutely not. How can we trust you?”

Jeremy nodded in agreement. “Seriously dude, just go home. You don’t need to involve yourself in this.”

“C’mon, you _need_ me.”

“Dude, you’re a fucking… _civilian_!” Kerry spat. “Get the fuck out of here!”

“Civilian, says who?” Trevor asked, looking mischievous.

Jeremy eyed him with curiosity. “What? What do you mean?”

Trevor placed a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Jeremy, this is Los Santos. If you’re not playing the game, then you’re the one getting played.”

Kerry narrowed her eyes, still suspicious. Who the fuck was this guy, showing up out of nowhere at a place they were hitting, saying he was in the fucking game too?

“Prove it.”

“Huh?” Trevor asked her. “How?”

“Seriously?” Jeremy asked, nudging Kerry. “We’re asking him to prove it now?”

Trevor stood up suddenly, an easy grin on his face. “Alright! I’ll do it. Stay here, I’ll be back in a jiff.”

They watched silently as he disappeared around the corner.

“Sooo…. If we were smart we would totally book it and ditch his ass, right?” Kerry asked.

Jeremy nodded. “Oh yeah. _If_ we were smart, that would be something we would totally do.”

“But we aren’t smart.”

“Soo…”

“I guess we stick around and see how this shit plays out, huh?”

Jeremy huffed out a laugh. “I guess we do.”

Less than fifteen minutes later Trevor appeared around the corner, dressed in a pristine white tuxedo jacket, neat black slacks and shiny dress shoes.

He was carrying a gun in one hand and laundry bag in the other. He tossed them both over to Jeremy, smiling.

“What the hell, dude?” Jeremy asked. “How?”

Trevor shrugged nonchalantly. “If you want to get close to the car, you’ll need disguises.”

He gestured to the suit, and then the laundry bag. Jeremy pulled open the bag, eyes widening.

“What?” Kerry asked, peering over his shoulder.

“Please tell me you didn’t just kill the guy who plays Jace freaking Boon,” Jeremy said, rifling through the bag. “And the lady who plays Goldie Goodpenny and a security guard, apparently…”

Trevor laughed. “I didn’t kill anyone! I just knocked out their stand-ins and a security guard on a smoke break. If we’re gonna get close to the car, we’ll need disguises. Kerry can play Goodpenny, I’ll be Boon, and you can be security! I was gonna give you the Boon costume, but…”

“He’s like a foot too short for that,” Kerry finished, smirking a little.

“Hey! Try half a foot!” Jeremy cried, pouting. “And what the hell dude? I thought you were a paparazzi and it turns out you…who the fuck are you, _exactly_?”

“I _am_ a paparazzo,” he clarified. “Sort of… it’s a good cover at least, and it’s a decent way to make extra cash from time to time. You’d be surprised how easily people will overlook a guy with a camera in this city. It such a natural thing to see that no one blinks twice at a guy snapping pictures around town. My _real_ trade is information - secrets, scandals, affairs - the stuff people try to bury. People pay good money for someone who can dig that stuff up, especially someone who is not afraid to use less than legal means to do it.”

“So you’re like a spy? Or a detective… like, Dark Dick Tracy,” Jeremy said with a nod.

“Shady Sherlock Holmes,” Kerry added.

“Nefarious Nancy Drew,” Jeremy replied.

“Oooh, good one,” Kerry said appreciatively.

Trevor laughed. “Yeah, something like that. You believe me now?”

“I mean, I guess so.” Jeremy shrugged, glancing at Kerry, who nodded along in acquiescent approval.

“Fuck it. We’re all here, might as well play dress up, get this damn car and roll out, right?” she asked.

“Good,” said Trevor. “Get changed and follow me. This should be a snap.”

 

* * *

 

“Where the eff is he going?” Gavin exclaimed as Lindsay took another turn, following Michael into the incorporated city of Davis.

They had been tailing him for the better part of an hour and a half. Their pursuit was made easier by the fact that Michael drove a bright blue Gauntlet with a blazing red stripe down the middle, so keeping him in sight was simple enough. He had stopped off once to make a withdrawal from an ATM in Rockford Hills and then gotten back in his car, continuing on southward.

Their efforts so far in discovering what Michael was up hadn’t led to all that much. Gavin had managed to knick Michael’s phone while they had been distracted by the Vagabond, slipping in back into his pocket when they headed back out. He checked the calls his friend had made, but they didn’t reveal anything, other than almost all of them had been from Vice City area codes, only the most recent being from within Los Santos.

Everything else, it seemed, Michael had simply deleted.

So they were back to square one. Ditching Jeremy and Kerry to follow Michael was their last resort.

“No idea,” Lindsay replied softly. “Lot of gang activity around here though, the LS², Los Idiotas…”

“Michael’s had trouble with the LS² before,” Gavin replied anxiously. “That’s practically how we met in the first place.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I nearly got shot to death saving his little behind from the Savages that were gunning for him, then he blew up a car, we went for burgers and threatened an old lady and her dog,” he said casually, grinning a little at the memory.

“Sounds like a fun evening,” Lindsay replied with a smirk. “So you think the gang is still hassling him?”

“Dunno, but I think we’re about to find out what out Mikey Michael has been up to.”

He pointed up ahead, seeing Michael pull up to a house on Grove Street. Lindsay brought the car to a stop some distance away, parking behind a large green Baller truck.

“What’s he doing?” she asked Gavin, seeing Michael hop out of the car and stride up to a ramshackle house.

“Buying guns? Explosives? Drugs? Prostitutes? Who knows with Michael,” Gavin replied.

Michael knocked on the door of the house. The front door cracked open just a smidge, and he slipped inside.

“And there he goes,” Lindsay said. “Should we wait for him to come back out? Sneak around back and peek in the windows?”

“I dunno!” Gavin exclaimed, shrugging his shoulders.

“You keep saying that, but this was your idea! What exactly are we supposed to be figuring out here?”

Gavin threw his arms up. “I told you I just have a bad feeling, he’s been acting-”

He was cut off as Lindsay silenced him with a frantic wave of her hand.

“Look!” she hissed. “Someone else is pulling in!”

Gavin turned to look out the driver’s side window. Coming from the other end of the Grove Street was a small fleet of yellow cars, a stark contrast with the green and purple gang colored cars scattered around Davis.

“Yellow?” Gavin questioned. “New gang in town?”

“No,” Lindsay replied gravely, shaking her head. “An old one, I think. The Animals. They’re fucking huge in Vice City, but they’re all over the East Coast and the South now, even where I grew up in Texas. I had no idea they had moved into San Andreas though…”

“That explains the Vice City area codes, then,” Gavin whispered anxiously.

Lindsay’s eyes widened. “Fuck.”

They watched as the cars pulled up to stop, surrounding the house Michael had just entered. Suddenly throngs of people began pouring out of the cars - people in bright neon shades of yellow, pink and turquoise, wearing animal masks and carrying big, heavy assault rifles.

“Shiiiite,” Gavin hissed, grabbing at Lindsay to pull her down in her seat.

They both sank down, gaping in horror as the gang approached the house, hoisting their rifles dangerously. They stopped just before the front door, talking quietly to one another.

“What do we do?” Gavin asked in a panic. “Michaels in there!”

“Fuck!” Lindsay said again, and before Gavin could stop her, she leapt out of the car and dashed around to the back.

“Lindsay! What the hell are you doing!” he exclaimed, spinning around in his seat to watch her carefully pull open the back of the truck.

“Well we gotta go save his ass, don’t we?” she asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Gavin gaped at her as she pushed back the back row of seats in the truck, revealing a hidden floor panel. She opened the panel, revealing the veritable arsenal concealed inside.

“My secret stash,” she said somewhat proudly, pulling out a combat MG. She grabbed one for herself and passed another up to Gavin.

“Christ, Lindsay,” Gavin exclaimed, accepting the gun. “This is madness.”

“Yeah it is. C’mon,” she replied. “Let’s go.”

It was rather startling, seeing the pretty blonde in leggings and a dress hefting a small machine gun with murder in her eyes. Shaking his head, Gavin scrambled out of the van and followed her into the backyard of the next house over.

Before they could reach the house Michael had gone into, they watched as the front door flew open, letting loose a barrage of gangsters clad in green, armed with guns of their own.

It was the LS². _The Los Santos Les Sauvages_.

Michael had been meeting with one gang and had somehow ended up getting ambushed by another. Gavin didn’t know what the hell Michael was doing rendezvousing with a gang who had tried to kill them on more than once occasion. The worst-case scenario was that he had sold out the crew or betrayed them in some way.

Even if the thought of Michael betraying them made Gavin’s heart race and his stomach churn, he wasn’t about to let the other man get gunned down in a gang fight without an explanation.

The Savages and the Animals clearly did not get along. The LS² opened fired on the mask-wearing rival gang members without hesitation, the Animals quickly firing back with bullets of their own.

Michael was still nowhere in sight.

“We have to get to the house,” Gavin whispered to Lindsay. “He might be hiding out in there.”

Lindsay nodded in agreement, and together they moved out, keeping low and quiet.

Using the chaos and confusion to their advantage, Gavin and Lindsay crept around to the back of the house the LS² had come out of.

They reached the fence that blocked off the back yard and clambered over it. As soon as Gavin dropped down, gun at the ready, he spotted Michael, kneeling over a dead guy in a green shirt in the corner of the yard.

Michael looked rough and rumpled, his hair a mess, his clothes wrinkled and pulled like he had been tossed around. He was holding himself stiffly, wobbling slightly with fatigue. Worst of all was the blood dripping from both his nose and a cut on his head - and the nasty black shiner blossoming around his right eye.

Lindsay dropped down next to Gavin on the lawn, and Michael finally looked up. A whirlwind of emotions crossed over his face, first fear, than shock, then finally anger.

Glancing around, Michael wildly motioned for them to come over, eyes blazing.

Heart thumping hard in his chest, Gavin tiptoed over, Lindsay trailing behind him.

“What. The. Fuck,” Michael hissed with barely contained rage once they reached him. “What are you two doing here?”

“Umm… well, we sort of…” Gavin trailed off, stammering.

“We followed you,” Lindsay said simply. “You were acting mad weird so we were worried. And thank god that we did! There’s a fucking gang war going on out there!”

Michael growled in frustration. “Yeah, I fucking _know_ Lindsay. That was on purpose. Now I have to worry about getting you two assholes out of here alive too. _Fuck_.”

“That was your doing?” Gavin asked, gesturing to the front of the house, where they could still hear shouting, screaming and a barrage of bullets going off - an orchestral of violence and bloodshed.

“No shit,” Michael replied, both aggravated and wrecked all at once. “Think I just stepped into this nonsense for shits and giggles? Please.”

“Even so!” Gavin cried. “Michael how the hell did you get involved in all that?”

Michael looked at him very, very wearily, releasing a shaky breath. He placed a hand on the wall of the house, tottering on his feet. Gavin found himself wanting to reach out and steady him for a moment, but he supposed Michael would hardly appreciate that.

“I don’t even know how to begin to…” Michael trailed off, exhaling heavily. “ _Fuck_.”

“Okay, we should probably focus on getting the fuck out of here, like _right_ _now_ , though,” Lindsay said softly, seeing Michael’s utter exhaustion. “We can discuss everything once we’re… not dead.”

Michael sighed and Gavin nodded in agreement. Together they made their way back across the lawn. Lindsay leapt over the fence first.

“Coast is clear,” she called from the other side.

Gavin noticed Michael was wincing as he moved, and holding his side in a pained sort of way. Gavin hoped he hadn’t reinjured his previously battered ribs again.

“Think you can make it over?” Gavin asked, looking at him with worry.

“I’m fine, fuck off,” Michael grumbled, waving off his concern.

He started to climb over, but slipped a little as he reached the top. He lay there, suspended over the top, groaning in pain.

“Okay, a little help would be nice,” Michael whimpered in defeat.

“Eff me,” Gavin muttered, moving to help hoist Michael over as Lindsay grabbed him under the arms, pulling him to the other side like he weighed nothing at all.

“I may have gotten my shit kicked in, just a little,” Michael said with fatigue, slumped over in Lindsay’s grip.

Gavin climbed over the fence, landing beside them. “No kidding! Let’s get you out of here.”

“That sounds good,” Michael replied, voice rough. It seemed his prickliness was quickly ebbing away in his injured state.

The Animals and Savages were still popping off rounds up ahead. Glancing past the fence, Gavin could see members of both gangs lying dead in the streets. The Animals who were left were taking cover behind parked cars while the Savages were ducking behind dumpsters and fencing, screaming expletives at the rival gang.

What the hell was going? And how was Michael involved in it all?

They reached the end of the fence. They’d have to dash from one yard to another without cover in order to get back to their cars. Unfortunately just around the corner, they could see one the Animals, a woman in a white rabbit mask and a bright pink, cropped vinyl jacket hiding behind a truck. If they stepped out from behind the fence, she’d spot them for sure.

“What’s the hold up?” Michael asked, close to Gavin’s ear.

“Lady in a rabbit mask blocking the way,” Gavin whispered back.

Michael scoffed. “ _Her?_ Do the world a favor and fucking smoke the bitch.”

“Fine,” Lindsay replied from the front, raising her MG.

She peered around the corner of the fence again, gun at the ready.

Gavin wasn’t entirely sure what happened next, one minute Lindsay was poised and ready to fire and the next she was on the ground, blood spewing from her face before she slumped over, unconscious. Gavin reacted without thought, tackling the figure who had attacked Lindsay. The woman kneed him hard in the gut, slamming her gun into his neck.

He toppled to the ground, gasping and dazed, eyes watering in pain. She kicked his gun out of reach and then slammed the heel of boot into his hand. Gavin struggled against her, teeth gnashing as he tried not to scream.

Michael had tried to leap into the action at the same time, but the woman had quickly put a stop to him with a sharp kick to the face. He fell to the ground beside Gavin, spitting blood.

“Be still now,” she said calmly. “Unless you want one right between the eyes.”

The rabbit masked woman stood above them, pointing the blood-spattered gun at them. Michael froze as well, staring at Gavin and the gun pointed at his head. Michael’s face was almost eerily blank, as if all emotion had drained out of him.

She turned - the creepy red eyes of her mask landing on Michael.

“ _Michael Jones_ ,” she purred. “It’s been a while. You promised we’d have a nice little chat! Instead me and my Animals walk in on something of an ambush. I heard rumors you had taken up with these Savages assholes but… I thought they were just that, _rumors_. Guess I was wrong. I didn’t know you could sink so low!”

“Fuck off, bitch,” Michael spat, eyes wide. “I’m done with the Savages – just like I’m done with you and your fucking freak show. I wish you two idiots could have wiped each other off the face of the earth, but I guess I can settle for a dozen or so dead Animals laying around.”

He grinned, teeth bloody.

“You know I was willing to work things out with you, Michael. You always were so talented, so eager to learn, so… loyal. More like a dog than a bear, really. I wish things had turned out differently for us.”

“I don’t. _Bitch_ ,” he growled.

“Mouthy as ever. Well, today you get to die like a dog in the streets. I don’t have time for beasts who don’t know their place.”

The rabbit-masked woman raised her pistol to his head.

Time felt like it was moving in slow motion.

Gavin wasn’t entirely sure how or where he found the strength to move, but the moment the gun moved from pointing at his own head to Michael’s, he wrenched his hand free from her heel and slammed his arms into the back of her knees, sending her toppling over.

The woman was fast however, she recovered, propping herself up with one hand and turning to point the gun at Gavin.

Michael dove at her, screaming with rage.

She must have squeezed the trigger as she fell. Gavin wasn’t sure how a gunshot was supposed to feel, but in the moment, it didn’t feel like much of anything at all – just a sharp, bright pain in his side that blossomed and died away in an instant.

Everything moved very quickly after that. The sounds of fighting and gunfire drew the remaining Animals and Savages. Michael scooped up Lindsay, who was groggily coming to in his arms, face a bloody mess. He reached for Gavin, but he found his feet on his own somehow.

Gavin registered the warm flow of blood at his side more than anything else. He put pressure on the wound, breathing hard, heart racing, trying to focus in on Michael’s voice, telling him to run.

They left the rabbit masked woman lying there in the dirt - a problem for another day.

Somehow, they were in the car, gunshots ringing out in deadly chorus around them. Michael was behind the wheel of Lindsay’s van, leaving his Gauntlet behind. Gavin felt Lindsay at his side, trying to staunch the flow of blood even as she bleed freely from her clearly broken nose herself.

Michael was saying something. Gavin couldn’t really make out what. Instead he focused on Michael’s knuckles at the wheel of truck, the red blood crusted against pale skin.

The image drew forth the memory of their first meeting.

_I’m from Jersey, bitch, I’ve been fighting since the day I was born._

Maybe that was why Gavin felt such a strange, sudden kinship with the other man. He hadn’t said it, back then, but maybe he should have.

He was from a very long way away, a different world entirely.

But Gavin Free had been fighting since the day he was born too – for everything, for money, for shelter, for safety, for every meager damn scrap.

Today he had been fighting for something different.

And strangely - all the pain and bloodshed had never felt more worth it.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t exactly a snap, but Kerry didn’t really think that stealing one of the most famous cars in the world would be all that easy to begin with.

She was utterly awkward and uncomfortable in Goldie Goodpenny’s signature slinky cocktail dress. Jeremy looked just as uncomfortable in his security guard uniform, the shoulders too tight and the pants too long.

Luckily they only had to fool the people on set for a minute while they approached the car.

Together, they quietly and calmly made their way to the front of the studio. Kerry had never been anywhere close to Backlot City or any film set for that matter, so it was fascinating to step from bland warehouses and featureless buildings into a colorful Italian village with quaint cafés and shops spilling out into the cobblestone streets.

They saw the car parked in the center of the set, glinting bright silver in the sunlight.

The cameras were poised and ready; the actress playing Goldie was hovering near the edge of the set, chatting idly with an important looking man who might have been a director.

Trevor led the way, his shoulders set and his stride confident. Jeremy plodded alongside him, looking down slightly. Kerry trailed behind, trying not to wobble on the heels that came with her character’s costume.

It was then that they realized that they had forgotten one important detail:

The JB 700 had just two seats.

Jeremy shot Kerry a panicked and questioning glance.

_What do we do?_

She shrugged at his silent question, glancing around. The people lingering around on set had definitely noticed their approached.

“Get ready,” Trevor whispered near her ear. “You drive. I’ll fly shotgun.”

“What about Jeremy?” she hissed back, moving to the driver’s side door as casually as she could.

Jeremy gestured slightly to the trunk of the car, raising his eyebrow.

_Dammit._

It would have to do.

For three people who had no idea what the fuck they were doing, they coordinated themselves pretty damn well.

A security guard was marching towards them as Kerry pulled open the door. She wasn’t supposed to be the one driving – that was Jace Boon’s job.

But today, Goldie Goodpenny was running the show.

She hopped into the front seat just as Jeremy pulled open the trunk and Trevor leapt into the passenger’s side. The moment they were all inside, she turned the keys waiting in the ignition and slammed her stiletto onto the gas pedal.

Immediately, they heard shouting and screaming behind them. Someone tried to pull Jeremy out from where he was hunkered down in the trunk, but as he brought out his gun and waved it wildly, the guy stopped, scrambling back.

Kerry shot forward into the alley at the side of the set, pushing past a row of trailers, narrowly missing an actor who dodged out of her path just in time.

“You okay back there, Jeremy?” she shouted, peeling past the scaffolding of another set, towards the front entrance of the Backlot City.

“Holding on for dear life!” he cried back. “Watch those turns please!”

She veered left, shooting under the archways at the entrance and barreling through the security arm and past the guard, relaxing in the booth.

“We got company!” Trevor warned.

Studio security was mobilizing behind them. Kerry spotted two black trucks peeling out of the lot in her rearview mirror.

“Trevor, Jeremy, make sure they don’t get a chance to shoot at us, we need to bring this car back in one piece!”

“No problem,” Trevor replied, pulling out his piece. He rolled down the window and leaned out, aiming towards the trucks in hot pursuit.

Kerry got onto Vespucci Boulevard, tires screeching as she dodged oncoming traffic. Dragovic would not be happy if she turned in a multi million-dollar ride with a crushed bumper.

That definitely made trying to evade the pursuing security trucks a lot fucking harder.

“We need to lose these guys pronto!” Trevor shouted. “They’ll probably call police in on us in a second here!”

“This thing has all kinds of gadgets and gizmos!” Jeremy cried from the trunk, as he ducked and fired at the tires of the trucks. “Find the caltrops!”

Right. _Duh._

“Trevor, find them for me will ya? I gotta make this turn!”

She spun the wheel sharply, taking them down a narrow street lined with parked cars.

“Got it!” Trevor cried. “Should I push it?”

“YES!!!” Jeremy and Kerry screamed back in unison as the trucks barreled towards them.

Kerry saw Trevor slam his hand down on the button. A moment later, out of the rearview mirror she saw small, metals spikes drop down onto the street, perfectly under the wheels of the approaching trucks.

She took them spinning down Calais Avenue, and then towards the tunnel under the La Puerta Freeway.

“Nailed ‘em!” Jeremy cried triumphantly. “They both spun out! No cops in sight! Lets slow her down and get out of here.”

“Holy smokes,” Trevor breathed, slumping down. “That was a rush. Nice driving… uh, I guess I didn’t get your name?”

“Kerry,” she replied. “Helluva first meeting, huh?”

“You can say that again,” Trevor agreed.

As she brought the car down to a normal speed and took a few turns to throw off any tails, she heard Jeremy exclaim something from the back seat.

“ _Fuck_ , Kerry, pull over.”

His voice was serious enough that she obeyed without question, pulling onto a side street and parking in an empty lot.

Jeremy got out of the car and she followed suit.

“What’s going on?” Trevor asked.

Jeremy threw up a hand to hush him. He looked at Kerry, alarm and worry in his eyes. “I just got a bunch of texts from Michael. Some shit went down. Gavin and Lindsay are… hurt. We need to meet him at the hospital - now.”

Kerry drew in a shaky breath, trying to find words.

Only one immediately came to mind.

_Fuck._

 

* * *

  

Ray discovered that trying to come up with a plan with Jack, Geoff and Gus in the room was like trying to have a tea party with a bunch of rabid raccoons – just pure, unadulterated horror and chaos.

Jack was furious with Geoff, shooting down every idea he had. Geoff had started out trying to pacify Jack, but as the afternoon went on, his stress and frustration levels grew and grew until he ended firing back with every shot she took at him.

Gus originally seemed keen to remain business-like and professional, but he was rapidly getting drawn into the childlike bickering and fight picking.

The afternoon of planning had devolved into three grown adults screaming over one another with vicious venom.

Ray sat in stunned silence from where he was seated at the table text to the Vagabond. They had been going over Dragovic’s recent movements on his laptop when some stray comment by Jack had set Geoff, and then Gus off.

The Vagabond silently got up from the table, stepping towards the back door near the pool.

The others were too wrapped up in their arguing to notice. Ray wasn’t sure whose company he preferred less, the screaming idiots or the masked killer.

Seeing Jack standing up to get in Geoff’s face, red-faced and raging, he decided that maybe the killer was the safer bet.

Afternoon was sinking into evening outside, the air just a little warmer than room temperature, the palms just barely swaying in the light breeze.

Ray stepped outside, standing a few feet from the Vagabond’s side. He glanced up at the impassive black mask, nervous.

“If this is how they conduct themselves on the field, then you and your crew wont make it to the end of the month, let alone long enough to take down Dragovic,” the Vagabond said, letting an edge of frustration slip into his voice.

“You’re not seeing us at our best right now. Everyone is stressed out. Plus Jack and Geoff just met again for the first time in years, so they’re still trying to figure each other out and stuff,” Ray replied, shrugging his shoulders.

“They need to get their shit together quickly, then. There’s a lot that needs to be done if they want to survive this. Making more money first of all, making alliances so they aren’t immediately blacklisted in the city, getting the crew trained up and ready, securing resources and setting someone up in Dragovic’s place – all of that will take a level of dedication that I’m really not seeing right now.”

Ray couldn’t help but agree with Vagabond, just a little. Geoff and Jack tended to see the big picture first – which was taking out Dragovic – and yes, that was their goal, but there were a million other things to think about and consider.

If the crew wanted to succeed, they had their work cut out for them.

“I’ll help them pull it together. I mean, look at me, I’m the picture of having your shit together. Look it up, in the dictionary under “Guy Who Knows What He’s Doing” – photo of me,” Ray gestured to himself, faded hoodie, scuffed jeans and all.

Rather surprisingly, the Vagabond laughed.

At least, Ray thought it was a laugh, he made a low sound under his breath, perhaps more of a resigned chuckle than anything, but still.

He made the fucking Vagabond laugh.

“What do you know,” he said, delighted. “You have a sense of humor. A good one too, since I’m obviously hilarious.”

“I’ve been known to appreciate a joke or two, in my time,” the Vagabond retorted, tilting his head slightly.

“Then we’re gonna get along just fine. So! You said something about making more money? I’m down for that. I’m also down for learning a thing or two.” Ray mimed shooting a sniper rifle.

“You want to learn?” The Vagabond asked.

“Hell yeah I wanna learn. I mean, Geoff taught me how to shoot a pistol, and I’m decent at that now. But I’m not much of a close quarters combat kinda guy, so I figure I should learn how to handle a long range rifle, ya know?”

“Hm.” The Vagabond was eyeing him with curiosity. Or at least with what Ray thought was curiosity.

“And I know you told Geoff you weren’t gonna help out with anything not strictly Dragovic related without getting paid, but you seem like you have your shit together. Our crew clearly does not, at least not yet. You know stuff. Maybe you could… I dunno, show us the ropes a little?”

The Vagabond turned to him and Ray sped up a little, fearing at any moment the masked assassin might tell him to shut the fuck up in a bloody fashion.

“You could think of it like an investment! You want Dragovic dead, our crew is in a prime position to help take him out – we’re just not quite ready yet, ya feel me? You clearly know a lot. Geoff and Jack and Gus, they’re fucking assholes, but they know their shit too. Even the others, they’re rookies same as me, but they got skills too. We all put our heads together, teach each other what we know, we might stand a fucking chance of surviving past taking out Dragovic. Cause that what it boils down to really,” Ray said softly, glancing up at the Vagabond.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re afraid - everyone in the crew. They want Dragovic dead, almost as much as you – but not at the expense of their own lives. Where we’re at now, we don’t have the skills to survive an encounter with the guy. But maybe we can learn… am I making sense or do I sound like a fucking asshole like usual?”

Slowly, the Vagabond nodded. “No, that does make a… surprising amount of sense.”

“Hey,” said Ray with a shrug, relieved. “I’ve been known to string together a coherent sentence or two, in my time.”

This time, there was no mistaking the Vagabond’s laugh for anything else. “If it means taking down Dragovic, I’d be willing to pass on some of what I’ve learned, or help you bring in some cash. You are right. It is an investment. I hadn’t thought of it that way until now.”

Ray found himself grinning. He hoped, in at least some small way, the Vagabond agreeing to teach the crew and help them earn would take at least some of the pressure off of Geoff and Jack.

“Awesome dude, we should probably –” Ray stopped short upon hearing the door to the pool area being pulled open behind them.

They turned to see Geoff standing in the doorway, looking frantic and pale, a cell phone clutched in his hand.

He stepped out, eyes wide.

“That was Michael just now,” Geoff said to them, harried and breathless. “He and Gavin and Lindsay were in some kind of fucking shootout with a gang. He’s took them to the hospital.”

“Someone’s hurt?” Ray asked, trying to keep the panic from rising in his chest.

“Yeah,” Geoff said slowly, almost unable to get the words out. “Gavin’s been shot.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12 done! Thanks so much for reading and commenting once again! Next one should be up by Sunday or Monday! See you then!
> 
> Chapter Title Song:  
> Animal (Acapella) by Miike Snow (GTA 4, The Ballad of Gay Tony)


	13. Vagabond

**The Devils You Know**  

Part Three

The Wolf At The Door

Chapter Thirteen

Vagabond

  

“Michael, will you fluff my pillow, Michael?” Gavin called from where he was lounging on his bed in Geoff’s guest room.

“Fuck you, do it yourself,” Michael replied.

“But Michael, I’m all injured! I’ll pull a stitch,” Gavin whined, pouting.

“Ugh,” he growled in response. “Fine, hold your horses.”

Michael set his phone down and got up from the armchair in the corner of the room. He moved to Gavin’s bedside and began smacking the pillows he was reclining on.

“What are you doing? You’re not supposed to hit them! You’re supposed to fluff them _gently_.”

“Don’t push your luck, asshole,” Michael grumbled - though he propped up Gavin’s pillows with tiny bit more care, in spite himself.

Also in spite of his usual inclination to bail when shit got too real, Michael found himself doing the exact fucking opposite of bailing. Against his better judgment and fighting the strong urge to head for the hills, Michael decided to stay, rather than run.

He’d stuck close by Gavin since the moment he and Lindsay had dragged his half-conscious ass into the hospital, to when they’d sprung him from the joint after his surgery and even during his few days of recovery at Geoff’s.

The last couple of days had been both an emotional rollercoaster and a whirlwind of activity for the crew. Thankfully, everyone found ways to pitch in and help out.

Kerry had shown up at the hospital wearing a swanky cocktail dress and stilettos and immediately gotten to work, calling in favors from everyone she knew in order to get the best treatment for Gavin without getting the cops involved.

Somehow she got some administrator or another to cover up Gavin’s obvious gunshot wound – instead heaving it cataloged as the result of a car accident. Ray and Gus worked together to ensure that the hospital kept no records of his treatment after his exploratory laparotomy and everyone else had helped to sneak him out of his room once he had recovered enough for travel. It was a goddamn miracle that they were able to get away with it all… but somehow the rookie crew had pulled it the fuck together.

As for Michael and Lindsay, they managed to escape their encounter with the Animals with far less serious injuries. Lindsay’s broken nose had been set by one of Kerry’s doctor friends – the friendly and rather chatty Dr. Miles Luna. He assured her that her nose would set normally with minimal scarring, though Lindsay hadn’t seemed particularly worried.

Michael had needed a couple stitches for the wounds on his face from the beating he had received from both the Savages and the Animals, but other than that, his injuries were minor.

He was lucky. Damn lucky.

He only wished Lindsay and _especially_ Gavin had been as lucky.

Because in the end, they had both gotten hurt – because of him.

If only Gavin and Lindsay hadn’t fucking followed him to Grove Street.

But Michael knew it wasn’t their fault – it was his, for being an asshole, for keeping secrets and pushing them away. It was no wonder they were worried about him, with the shady as fuck way he had been acting.

Geoff was going to fucking kill him. _Jack_ was going to fucking kill him. Hell, they would probably be killing him together.

But right now, they still had no idea what had really gone down on Grove Street - because neither Lindsay nor Gavin had said a gone damn word about it.

Instead, they had lied. For him.

Michael’s head had been reeling when the crew had rolled up at the hospital after Gavin had been taken up to surgery and Lindsay had gone to get her face fixed up.

They all had a million fucking questions, and Michael hadn’t known how to answer a single goddamn one of them. He had been stammering, utterly tongue-tied, trying to find the right words to explain – when Lindsay had strolled up, cool as a cucumber, taking care of everything.

She wove some fake story about Michael getting word about a car on Dragovic’s list being on Grove Street, how he had initially gone alone to check it out before Lindsay and Gavin had decided they might as well follow him. Somehow they had accidently stumbled into some kind of gang war and gotten caught in the crossfire.

Only Jeremy and Kerry saw the slight holes in the story, having been there when Michael had taken off suddenly, but luckily, they didn’t say anything to refute Lindsay’s tall tale.

Lindsay must have then repeated her lies to Gavin when she got the chance, because when Geoff had asked Gavin about what he remembered he had repeated the exact same story, down to the last detail.

Michael didn’t know what to think of the gesture. He certainly didn’t fucking deserve their kindness or understanding, not after all the lies and sneaking around, and certainly not after he had been such a piece of shit to them.

And he still hadn’t explained anything.

They hadn’t really asked, either, but Michael knew they were wondering. He also knew he _had_ to tell them. Even if he didn’t say anything to the others, Lindsay and Gavin deserved to know, at least.

It was time to come clean.

A half an hour later, Lindsay arrived at the house. She had spent the day in the city dealing with gunrunning business, but had phoned them to get their takeout orders for the Korean noodle place Geoff had gotten them all addicted to.

She came up the stairs carting boxes and boxes of bibim-naengmyeon and japchae on a large dinner tray. Michael helped her set out the food right on the bed. They all sat crossed legged on the queen-sized bed, eating picnic style.

“Lindsay, you are an angel,” Gavin said, chewing his food. “I thought I was going to starve to death. Michael refused to feed me, I practically had to beg him to get me a glass of water!”

“Shut the fuck up Gavin! Its not my fault Geoff doesn’t keep food in his house! Apparently the guy subsists entirely on condiments and hard liquor!” Michael shot back.

“He normally has food, but he’s been too busy to go grocery shopping,” Gavin replied.

“Well why don’t you do it, then!”

“I can’t very well do anything with a damn hole blown in my side, can I?” Gavin cried, wincing a little.

Seeing his pained expression, Michael deflated a little, eyeing him with concern.

Lindsay set down her food with a sigh. “Now, now boys, play nice.”

“I’m always nice,” Gavin grumbled.

“Pssht.” Michael gave a dubious snort. “Bullshit.”

Gavin faux pouted while Michael smirked wolfishly at him.

“Wow,” Lindsay exhaled. “You two are hopeless.”

She stood and began to clear away the food. Michael leapt up to help her. They trekked down into the kitchen to throw everything away, shoving the leftovers in Geoff’s nearly empty fridge.

“So,” Lindsay began as she went to the sink to wash her hands. “I know we haven’t really talked about what went down on Grove street the other day, but… if you _do_ wanna talk about it, now’s a pretty good time when its just me and Gavin here. Just sayin’.”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

“Really.”

“Okay then. I… guess we should head back up then?”

“Yeah,” Michael replied. “Let’s go.”

Gavin seemed to sense the mood change once Michael and Lindsay reentered the room. He glanced up at them from the bed, frowning a little.

“Oh,” he said softly. “Ready to tell us then?”

“I guess so.” Michael moved back to the armchair that faced the bed.

Lindsay went to the bed, curling up besides Gavin.

Michael ran a hand through his hair, breathing out heavily.

_Where to begin?_

“I told you when you got there what I was doing,” he began, staring down at his knees. “But I guess I really didn’t say _why_. I’m sure you figured some of that shit out, but here it fucking is – the Animals were my old gang. Most of the time, the only way you really get to “leave” a gang is in a goddamn body bag. So once the Animals figured out I was still kickin’ around in LS, they came for me. There was no way I’d be able to take down all those assholes by myself, so I set up a meeting with the both the Animals _and_ Savages at Grove Street, hoping they’d take each other out. If only I’d been so lucky.”

“ _Damn_. I mean I kinda figured that might be the case, but still – _damn_ ,” Lindsay replied.

“How’d you meet the Animals anyway?” Gavin asked. “Back in Jersey?”

“Yeah - I got recruited by them in Jersey. The Animals gang there was small, but they turned a decent profit with the jobs they took. I made something of a name for myself there with the fire insurance scams I started pulling. The parent branch of the gang got wind of me and I got recruited. So I moved to Vice City and worked with them for a couple of years.”

“Why though?” Gavin pressed. “I mean - the Animals have a bit of a nasty reputation, right Lindsay?”

Lindsay nodded. “From what I’ve heard, yeah. Even for a street gang, they can get pretty violent, and even a little… disturbing in the way they take out their enemies.”

“So why’d I join up?” Michael asked. “Why does anyone do anything stupid and dangerous? Cause they’re young, dumb and desperate as hell. Which is what I was at the time. My family was poor as shit growing up, ya know? We at least had a roof over our heads, for a few years. Then my dad lost his job, and then we lost the house. We ended up couch surfing, and then sleeping in my Mom’s van when no one else would take us in. When my brothers and I were old enough we took to the fucking streets. Smack was the drug of choice on the streets back home. So that’s what we sold. That’s what my stupid asshole brothers…”

He broke off, drawing in a shaky breath.

“Michael…” Gavin began, voice thick with worry. “You don’t have to…”

Michael shook his head roughly. “S’okay. It’s… fine. What happened is what always happens. After a while it was just me looking after my mom and dad. Then it was just my mom I was looking after. I made enough money to get her a place of her own, nice little apartment at the edge of the city, far as fuck away from where I did business. Right around then was when I met one of the Jersey Animals gang. Nice guy, took me in, taught me some shit. If I was smart, I’d have stayed there and not gone to Vice fucking City. But I wasn’t smart. I was stupid and greedy. So I left it all behind.”

Michael stopped to take another heavy breath. He still couldn’t meet their eyes. He wasn’t sure what he would see there.

Hate? Pity? Disgust? Fear?

Either way, he didn’t want to see.

So he pressed on.

“Things were okay in Vice City for a while. I thought I was doing pretty damn well for myself – I was a part of one of the most notorious gangs in the Southeast. I was cocky as hell about it too.”

“Did you wear a mask?” Gavin asked.

“Of course, everyone did. I was Mogar the fucking grizzly bear,” Michael replied with a snort. “Man, I thought I was tough shit back then. I moved up high enough in the ranks that when our gang leader got shot, I thought I might be the one to replace him. Instead we got a new leader – a bitch who called herself Bunnie. The lady in the rabbit mask you saw, that was her. I joined the gang to make bank, like most everyone else. But Bunnie doesn’t give two shits about cash. She just wants to… have fun. Fun for her is like… chucking grenades out of car windows for shits and giggles - or leaving a bomb in a bag downtown and watching from afar to see if someone picks it up. She’s a real twisted fucking bitch. I couldn’t fucking stand her or the shit she constantly wanted us to pull. So I had to get out.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Lindsay hissed.

“How’d you manage that?” Gavin asked, eyes wide.

“I took all the cash the gang had made in last few months and got a bus ticket out of there. Just kept heading west until I hit Los Santos. Figured this was a good a place as any to stop. I tried to do legit work as an electrician for a while, but this city is expensive as fuck to live in. Eventually I… slipped back into old habits, I guess. I started doing insurance scams again. The Savages took notice of me but I said hell no to them cause that was one road I didn’t want to fucking go down again. Eventually the Animals figured out I was here. They got my fucking number and started harassing me, telling me to give them their money back or I was dead and all that bullshit. I knew if they found me I’d be dead either way, so I set the trap for ‘em. Didn’t fucking work out as planned, but ya know. That’s the gist of it, at least.”

Silence filled the room as Lindsay and Gavin took everything in.

Finally, Michael looked up.

There was no hate or pity, no disgust or fear in their expressions. Just… real and genuine concern and understanding.

Michael was used to hatred and fear. But sympathy was something he had limited experience with. He just couldn’t parse it.

“I’m sorry,” Michael choked out. “You guys got all fucked up cause of my stupid bullshit. I don’t even know how to make it-”

“Stop,” Gavin interrupted him. “You don’t need to make anything up. I got shot, so what! That’s the damn job, innit? We’re all gonna end up on the wrong end of a gun someday. If I’m gonna die, might as well kick it doing something at least a little bit decent, right?”

Michael gaped at him. “I’d call saving my fucking life a little more than just “decent” but… for what its worth, I am sorry. And thank you. I’ll return the favor someday, boi.”

“Hopefully not anytime soon though,” Gavin said with a grin. “No one else is allowed to get shot for at least a few more months. Trying to steal my damn glory, here.”

“No one’s trying to steal your thunder Gavin,” Lindsay said with a laugh, shaking her head. “Believe or not, catching a bullet to the side is something most people try to _avoid_.”

“Yeah you piece of shit,” Michael added, smirking a little. “We get it, you’ve got one extra hole now, stop trying to milk it.”

Gavin pretended to look shocked for a moment before bursting out with a laugh. “Bastard!”

“Idiot.”

“Jersey Bitch!”

“British Fuck!”

“Once again, you two are hopeless,” Lindsay finished with a dramatic sigh.

Michael and Gavin snickered, grinning at one another.

They didn’t say it. They didn’t need to, because Michael felt it. He heard it in their stupid fucking laughs and their shitty jokes.

Something he thought was pretty fucking impossible:

_Forgiveness._

 

* * *

 

Geoff couldn’t think of three worse people to have brunch with than the trio of assholes seated before him.

The first asshole was Burnie Burns – tall, bespectacled with a scruffy beard and looking uncomfortable in his muted grey suit. The guy wasn’t all that bad when you got to know him – but he was still FIB, and whenever Geoff met up with him it usually meant bad fucking news was on the way.

Then there was the second asshole, Biff Paddington. Geoff had yet to have the displeasure of meeting the FIB agent who had been gunning for him not so long ago. Already he could tell that the dude was going to be a smug fucking prick. Geoff was getting serious WASP vibes from the guy – with his perfectly coifed hair, pastel polo shirt and all-American good looks.

Paddington was sharp contrast to the third asshole, who happened to be Geoff’s least favorite person in the known universe.

Anton Dragovic.

He looked pristine and dangerous in his dark suit and slicked back hair, his face a pale mask of cool disinterest.

They were all seated at an outdoor table in a little café in Mirror Park. As Geoff approached, Dragovic gestured for him to take a seat. Burnie greeted him with a soft hello and a rather sheepish grin, having been the one who called him to the meeting – without telling him that Dragovic and his new BFF Biff were going to be there.

“Burnie,” Geoff greeted with a smile, deciding to keep things light. “You didn’t tell me we were double dating. Sorry fellas, this big hunka love is all mine.”

Burnie snorted. Biff chuckled. Dragovic ignored him.

Well… it was worth a try.

“Good of you to come, Mr. Ramsey,” Dragovic said smoothly. He waved his hand to catch the waiter’s attention. “I’d like you to introduce you to Mr. Paddington here. I’m sure his reputation precedes him.”

Biff grinned amicably, showing off sparkling white teeth. “Geoff Ramsey! Heard so much about you! _Read_ , so much about you – your files, I mean. Burnie here was kind enough to show them to me, _finally_. Good to know I wasn’t barking up the wrong tree with your shifty little case there, pal.”

He grabbed Burnie’s shoulder, shaking him in a rough sort of way. Geoff could see Burnie choking down the urge to shove him away.

They fell silent as the waiter appeared. Geoff ordered a simple black coffee. His eyes fell to the rooftops surrounding the café. Where was the Vagabond and his sniper rifle when you needed him? Of course, Geoff recalled, whenever Dragovic stepped out into public, his personal body guards followed closely behind. Geoff spotted two guys a few tables away that looked too alert and business-like for a casual café brunch. He didn’t put it past Dragovic to have a couple more bodyguards keeping watch from afar too.

Still, a guy could dream.

The waiter returned with Geoff’s coffee. Once he disappeared, Biff leaned in close again, his wide grin a little too toothy for Geoff’s comfort.

“I have to say, you’re little stunt at the morgue was rather cute. Having one of your cronies play dead! How clever! But in the end, it didn’t amount to much did it?”

“You’re sounding awfully antagonistic there. Here I thought we were playing for the same team, _buddy_ ,” Geoff replied.

He chanced a glance at Dragovic, hoping his blatant baiting wasn’t about to land him in any hot water.

Surprisingly, Dragovic seemed rather… amused by the whole exchange.

That was definitely a good thing. It meant Dragovic viewed Biff Paddington as as much of a bumbling buffoon as Geoff did.

“Don’t get snarky with me,” Biff shot back. “I’m here as a fucking fav-”

He stopped short, inhaling through his nose. It seemed that Biff was frightened of Dragovic too, and he didn’t want to say anything that might cause… offense.

Geoff could use that to his advantage too.

“What Mr. Paddington is trying to say is this,” Dragovic began, leaning forward. “He and Mr. Burns discovered some information that requires your… urgent attention. Hence the facilitation of this rather last minute meeting.”

Well, _fuck_. Burnie was the harbinger of doom, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Even so, Geoff couldn’t help but hope for a day where shit wasn’t constantly hitting the goddamn fan.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Remember the guy we were looking for in the morgue? Jason Grant?” Burnie asked.

“How could I forget - the dude was trying to leak all my goddamn secrets to this asshole here,” Geoff replied, gesturing to Biff, who sneered back in response.

“Well… the FIB sort of… lost him.”

“What?” Geoff exclaimed. “How the fuck does one lose an entire person?”

“We didn’t lose him!” Biff protested. “We were moving him to a safe house up north for questioning when we were intercepted by the IAA. They hit us hard and took Grant into custody themselves.”

“Why the fuck would the International Affairs Agency be interested in some FIB snitch?” Geoff asked.

“Those bastards will do anything as long as it fucks the FIB over!” Biff cried, slamming his fists on the table.

One sharp look from Dragovic was all it took to quell Biff’s sudden rage. He slumped back into his seat, sheepish.

“The IAA and the FIB have had a rather… tempestuous relationship for the last several years. They’ve been involved in a bureaucratic fight for government funding that often results in childish one-uppances,” Dragovic said calmly. “I expect they targeted Grant’s FIB convoy that day for those exact reasons.”

“So they might not know who… or what, they have?” Geoff asked hopefully.

“I couldn’t say for certain, either way, they’ll do whatever they can to draw information from Grant. Grant knows he was spirited away by the FIB for what he discovered about your case file and the ensuing cover up,” Dragovic replied.

“Which means if they question him, he’ll talk. He may have already talked. I’m sure they’ll mostly want to get as much dirt on the FIB as they can from him, but if he starts talking about why he was pulled from duty…” Burnie spoke up, looking drawn and anxious. “Well, that won’t be good for any of us, but most especially you, Geoff.”

“Fuck me,” Geoff swore. “So what do we do?”

“ _We_ aren’t going to do anything. _You_ are,” Biff replied, a little smugly. “You need to get to Grant.”

“And you’re not going to help me? You two assholes are as involved in this as I am!”

Biff folded his arms over his chest. “Maybe, but if Grant talks, he’ll talk about you first and foremost. We black-bagged him, so doesn’t know that it was me and my team who took him in for questioning. He only knows Burnie’s name because he was snooping in his office, but if Burnie get caught, he can cop a plea, maybe get five years at worst. You, on the other hand… if this gets back to the FIB, you’re fucked, pal.”

And of course, Dragovic’s name wouldn’t come up at all.

“So this is more of what… a courtesy warning?” Geoff asked, seething.

Biff nodded, all pomp and haughtiness. “Exactly so.”

“I’ll need to steer clear of this one I’m afraid,” Dragovic said with an air of regret. “You and your team will need to take care of Mr. Grant on your own. Find him, take him, and see what he knows.”

“And then what?” Geoff asked.

“Dispose of him,” Dragovic replied easily.

Geoff ran his hands through his hair, letting out a heavy breath. His coffee sat untouched in front of him. He grabbed the mug and downed it, suddenly wishing he had something a little stronger.

“So where is he? Do we know where the IAA is keeping him?” he asked, glancing between Biff and Burnie.

“We received intel that they’re moving him to the local IAA Headquarters in two days,” Burnie replied. “You’re best bet is to nab him while he’s there before they move him underground and off the radar again.”

“Shit,” Geoff “This’ll take some fucking planning. And some fucking money.”

“Then you better get going,” Dragovic suggested. “I wish I could assist your further, but my hands are tied here. I’m sure you understand.”

“Don’t worry about it. I got this.” Geoff at least tried to sound confident, even if he felt like he might puke.

He stood from the table, pulling out his wallet to pay for the coffee. He tossed a few bucks on the table. Dragovic seemed to be watching him carefully, eyes narrowed. Geoff tried not to shrink under his gaze.

Dragovic silently gathered up Geoff’s money. He pulled the old brown wallet from Geoff’s fingers and tucked the bills back inside before handing it back to him.

“The least I can do is buy you a coffee, after all that,” he said simply.

“Uhh… thank you,” Geoff replied, stammering slightly. “I’ll be heading off then, people to do, things to see, that sort of thing. Enjoy the day.”

He nodded to Dragovic and waved to Burnie before taking off across the street towards his Cabrio. He pulled his phone out once he was inside, trying to call Jack.

_Again._

She had stuck around in town long enough to make sure Gavin was okay before she had headed up north again. She claimed she had business stuff she needed to take care of, and Geoff figured that was probably at least partially true.

But Geoff knew she had blown town mostly because she was pissed at him. She hated his “cavalier” attitude towards the whole Mica situation. Even if the rest of the crew had agreed to wait on the rescue mission until they were better prepared, in Jack’s mind, all the blame fell on Geoff.

Unsurprisingly, Jack didn’t pick up the phone.

_Again, again._

At least she was still responding to texts from Lindsay, so Geoff knew she was alive and not dead in the desert somewhere.

Still.

Geoff had gotten so used to having Jack around that now her continued absence made him feel like something huge and vital and important had been suddenly ripped from his being.

Especially now that he had a shitstorm of fuck to deal with.

Jack was supposed to be there to call him a dumbass - but then tell him everything was going to be okay. She was the one who was good at the game plans, at figuring shit out in a way that made sense in the messy bedlam of his brain.

Geoff needed a problem solver.

Suddenly, he remembered something Ray had told him, the night after Gavin’s accident.

Apparently while Geoff, Jack and Gus had been tearing at each other’s throat, Ray and the Vagabond had been having a rather interesting conversation.

A conversation in which somehow, someway, little Ray had gotten the Vagabond to agree to sort of… informally joining the crew – or to at least show them all the ropes a little.

Geoff had no fucking clue how the kid had pulled it off. But he wasn’t about to say no to a little help to someone with as much experience as the Vagabond, no matter his reputation.

The crew needed money, but half of them had fucked off to do other shit. Jack was off gallivanting in the desert somewhere. Kerry, Jeremy and the kid they found in the dumpster (Geoff still hadn’t had time to get the story on that shit) were working on getting Dragovic’s cars and Gavin was still laid up.

If the Vagabond had offered to help, Geoff wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He found the Vagabond in his contacts. He had saved his number under “Mr. Skull”.

Geoff rang him up.

“What is it?” the Vagabond answered almost immediately.

“Straight to the point, good I like it,” Geoff replied. “I’ll explain everything in detail later, but right now I’m I need some fast cash to fund a… heist of sorts that needs to go down two days from now. Any ideas?”

“You’re asking me, _a guy who kills people for money_ , if he has ideas on how to make cash quickly?” the Vagabond asked with a scoff. “ _Please._ Give me something hard to do.”

Despite himself, Geoff laughed. “Well alright, dude. Mind taking Ray and Michael with you?”

“You sure? I can probably knock this out quicker on my own.”

“I know… but Michael’s been pacing a hole in the floor at my place looking after Gav, and Ray’s been itching for something more to do. I think “Research Time With Gus” is starting to wear him down. Plus, he’s like your biggest fan now, or whatever. He was singing your praises just the other day. Please take these wayward orphans off my hands, Vagabond, I am begging you.”

“Huh. You’re asking me like… a favor?” the Vagabond replied, a note of curiosity in his voice.

“Yes…” Geoff replied uncertainty. “Are you about to tell me to fuck off?”

“I’m not saying no,” the Vagabond responded, sounding surprised by his own answer. “Fuck it, throw ‘em my way. I’ll meet them at the Limited LTS off Tongva Drive. I’ll take ‘em bounty hunting up north. If they’re lucky there won’t even be any murdering.”

“I don’t think they’re too squeamish about that. As long as there’s no disembowelment or dismembering involved, I think they’ll do okay.” Geoff replied, rather shocked at the Vagabond’s sudden agreeability. Ray had worked some kind of fucking magic, apparently.

“I mean, I know a guy who pays good money for a decent disemboweling. I can take them on a whole disemboweling adventure. There’s money to be made in the black market organ trade.”

“On second thought, bounty hunting sounds perfect,” Geoff said with a slightly frightened chuckle. The Vagabond’s joking voice was the exact same as his menacing murderer voice. At least Geoff hoped. “Man, even over the phone you’re creepy as dicks.”

“Hey,” the Vagabond replied, sounding almost sociable. “I have an image to maintain.”

“Jesus Christ, what am I in for with you? Alright, I’ll phone the little shits and send them off. Keep their limbs attached and their organs inside their bodies, please and thank you.”

“Sure thing.”

“And thanks… by the way,” Geoff added more seriously. “For sticking around and helping out and shit. I know you’re itching to get this Dragovic thing over and done with. We _will_ get there, I promise.”

“I know. That Ray kid is pretty smart. Told me sticking with you guys was like… an investment. Haven’t really worked too closely with another crew before. So this’ll be… interesting.”

Geoff snorted. “Yeah it will. Good luck out there. Have the kids home by midnight.”

“Will do.”

 

* * *

 

This was fucking bullshit.

The last thing Michael wanted to be doing was to spend the day running around the desert with the goddamned Vagabond.

Currently, both Ray and Michael leaning up against his Gauntlet in the back lot of the gas station off Tongva Drive, waiting for the masked assassin to arrive.

Geoff hadn’t explained much of anything when he had called him, just that Michael was supposed to grab Ray and meet up with the Vagabond so that they could all go back some money for the crew together.

Michael was less than thrilled with the idea of working with the creepy killer, but he wasn’t about to go against a direct request from Geoff. He didn’t want to leave Gavin alone either, after Lindsay had taken off again to get back to work, but the Brit had practically shoved him out the door, telling him to go “have fun”.

As fucking if.

So here Michael was. He’d work with the Vagabond if he had to - but he wasn’t gonna be fucking happy about it.

Ray on the other hand, was in a much better mood. Michael suspected that had something to do with the fact that he had sort of “rescued” him from another long research session with Gus.

It wasn’t as if the two didn’t get along, they were friendly enough at least, but it seemed like Gus was much easier to deal with in small doses. _Very_ small doses.

When Michael had gone to pick him up, Ray had made an instantaneous beeline for the car, escaping Gus’s house as if it were a burning building. After that, Gus himself had plodded out to give Michael a short but rather unnerving warning.

“Hey man, Geoff told me you and Ray were heading out with the Vagabond this afternoon,” Gus had whispered to him from the doorway.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Michael replied.

“I don’t mean to sound like a fucking asshole here, but watch yourself around him. Don’t get to chummy.”

Michael scoffed. “It’s not like we’re going to be braiding each other’s hair and talking about which boys we like, Gus. This is a job. Besides - it’s the fucking _Vagabond_. He’s the last guy in the world I’m looking for a friend in.”

Gus nodded. “That’s good. Try to remember that out there. I know Ray’s warmed up to him a little, but no matter what - you have to know that the Vagabond is only out for himself. I’ve done the research, I’ve seen how single minded his pursuit of Dragovic is. Don’t think for one second that he wouldn’t gladly throw any of you under the bus if it meant getting one step closer to his goals.”

“I get it,” Michael replied shortly. “I’ll keep an eye on him. I won’t let my guard down.”

“Good. Watch out for Ray too. He’s a good kid, almost a shame he got sucked into all this dark shit.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked, confused. “He didn’t get sucked in, Ray’s here by choice, just like the rest of us.”

Gus shook his head. “Forget it. Anyway, I got shit to do. Tell Ray to message me when he’s ready to get back to work.”

With that, Gus had disappeared back inside the house.

Michael had no fucking clue what to make of it all.

He eyed Ray out of the corner of his eye. The other guy was wearing a faded grey t-shirt and worn jeans, five o’clock shadow dusting his jaw, his hair a rumpled mess. Michael figured Ray had probably been getting just about as much sleep as him over the last couple of days.

Which was to say – not a fucking lot.

“You, uh, doing okay dude?” Michael asked finally.

Ray glanced up, shrugging his shoulders and then groaning as his neck cracked a little.

“I’m good. Just fucking beat, ya know?” he replied, voice hoarse.

“Yeah, I get that,” Michael replied. “Everyone’s been running themselves ragged. We need a fucking vacation after all this shit.”

“Hell yeah! Cabo here we come!”

“Cabo?”

“Yeah, that’s where all the hot, young, single dudes go to have a good time right?” Ray asked.

“Just dudes?” Michael asked with a snort.

“Fucking better be or I’m staying home,” Ray deadpanned. “Gaycation here I come!”

Michael couldn’t help but laugh. He realized he hadn’t had much one on one time with Ray. Dude was funny as shit in his own weird self-deprecating and sarcastic way.

“So when do you think –” Michael started, stopping off when he heard the deep grumble of an engine pulling into the gas station.

A huge, black Sandking XL came rumbling into the back lot. The darkly tinted window on the driver’s side rolled down, revealing the Vagabond’s black skull mask.

“You ready to go?” he asked them.

“Hell yeah,” said Ray, leaping up. “Shotgun!”

He jumped into the passenger’s seat. Michael trailed behind him, getting in the back behind the Vagabond. He felt for the reassuring presence of his knife – well, technically Gavin’s knife – inside his pocket.

“Sick ride, by the way,” Ray said, glancing around the interior of the massive truck. “Kinda conspicuous though. Where exactly are we heading?”

“North,” the Vagabond replied simply. “Needed something that was off-roading friendly. I’ve got a couple bounties for us.”

He handed Ray a slip of paper. Michael leaned forward to catch a glimpse of what was written on it.

He saw four names scrawled in red ink.

“These guys all have a pretty price on their heads. Most of them are wanted, dead or alive. Usually I get paid more for bringing in live ones, so we’ll try to avoid roughing ‘em up too much,” the Vagabond intoned, pulling out of the gas station.

“All I see are names,” Michael said gruffly. “How’re we supposed to track them down with just that?”

“I’ve already got a lock on all of them,” the Vagabond responded, sounding assured. He pulled a smart phone out of the pocket of his leather jacket and handed it to Ray. “They’ve all got one thing in common, they use Lifeinvader phones.”

“Dude,” Ray said, accepting the phone and then scrolling through it. “Did you use my backdoor to get these? I set one up behind before I left the company. Figured I might need it one day.”

The Vagabond nodded. “Sure did. I mean, Lifeinvader’s encryption algorithms have been notoriously weak since the whole “CEO getting his head blown off thing” - so along with the backdoor I was able to hack the GPS on their phones pretty easily.”

Ray grinned, sounded rather impressed. “Awesome.”

“Try creepy,” Michael grumbled. “Getting into people’s private info like that.”

“It’s not creepy,” Ray protested lightly. “I do it all the time. Part of the job, ya know? Besides we kill people for a living. How is hacking any worse than that?”

Michael opened his mouth to respond, but then stopped, thinking better of it. Sometimes he had to remind himself that not everyone easily bounced back from insults and casual fight picking like Gavin did.

“So,” the Vagabond spoke up as he exited onto Route 68. “Check the GPS ping on Larry Tupper. He was just east of the vineyards, last I checked.”

“Got him, looks like he’s moved further east. Looks like he’s holed up in some kind of farm area southwest of the Grand Senora.”

“Alright, set a waypoint on him and I’ll take us there,” the Vagabond replied, speeding down the road towards the desert.

 

* * *

 

At the first location, the Vagabond taught them how to shoot.

They found the guy, Larry Tupper, hanging out, drinking and smoking up with a bunch of his friends outside a ramshackle old barn. The Vagabond led them to a vantage point on a steep hill that overlooked the whole farm. A few rocks and scrub brush hid them from sight, so Larry and his friends didn’t notice a thing as they clambered up.

The Vagabond handed them each their own sniper’s drag bag and told them to find a flat place to set up.

“Jesus,” Ray said in a low voice as he watched the Vagabond demonstrate how to lay out a shooting mat and set up a rifle. “I had no idea this shit was so involved.”

“It is if you’re a beginner,” the Vagabond replied. “Shooting from the prone position is the easiest way to learn. Once you figure that out you can move to kneeling and then standing.”

Michael struggled with some of the instructions, while Ray seemed to grasp things much quicker.

“This feels weird as hell,” Michael said from his position, laying down on his stomach and staring down at the group of guys through his scope.

“You get used to it,” the Vagabond replied shortly, kneeling down beside him. “Use your duffle as a bench rest, lean your cheek on the stock and look through the scope. See the reticle? You want that to line up with your target.”

“I know how to use a fucking reticle,” Michael growled, frustration heating up in his chest. Ray had aligned his scope perfectly on the first try. They were just waiting on him.

“Alright,” Michael said finally. “I got it.”

“Okay, last part is trigger control. When you shoot you want to pull the trigger straight back towards your shoulder. Keep your hand loose and relaxed. Squeeze slowly and release the hammer when your reticles on your target. Got all that?” the Vagabond asked.

“Yeah,” Ray replied. “Easy peasy, right Michael?”

“Sure,” Michael agreed listlessly. “So are we actually gonna do this or what?”

“One minute.”

They waited while the Vagabond took his position at his rifle. Unlike them he took up a kneeling stance, finding his target and lining up his scope almost instantly.

“Okay, check your scopes again,” he instructed. “There are four guys down there. The one in the plaid cut-off t-shirt is our guy. The rest we can take out. Michael, aim for the big guy with the trucker hat.”

“Got him,” Michael replied, finding the guy in his scope.

“Ray, you go for the skinny dude in white.”

“Sounds good,” Ray agreed, moving his rifle.

Michael wondered for a moment if the Vagabond was purposefully giving him the larger (and therefore easier) target.

“I’ll get the third guy and then put one in Larry’s leg before he can do a runner. Don’t worry about a headshot. A shot to the gut at this distance will knock them down just as well. Everyone good?”

“All good in the hood,” Ray responded.

“Yup,” Michael said in agreement. “Let’s do this.”

The Vagabond nodded. “On one, two, three, go then.”

“One.”

Michael aimed his gun at the big guy’s belly, breathing in slowly.

“Two.”

He chanced a glance out of the corner of his eyes at Ray. He wouldn’t be surprised if Ray was going for a headshot. The guy was apparently a prodigy with a gun.

“Three.”

Michael moved his shot up slightly, seeing if he could keep his reticle stable over his target’s head. If he held his breath, he could keep it pretty steady.

“Go!”

He heard two shots go off one after another beside him, followed shortly by the Vagabond’s second shot.

His scope lined up, Michael pulled the trigger, slow, straight and easy like the Vagabond had shown them.

And then he heard shouting.

A voice was screaming down below. “What the fuck! Oh hell, _oh hell_!”

Michael sat up, looking over his gun down towards the barn where Larry and the three goons had been drinking.

He saw two dead bodies slumped over in the dirt.

He saw Larry, clutching his leg as it bled from the bullet wound Vagabond had put into him.

And lastly he saw his target, booking it down the hill towards a pickup truck as he screamed out fearful obscenities.

_Fuck._

Michael picked up his sniper rifle to take aim once again.

“Stop,” the Vagabond warned, voice low. “I’ll take care of it.”

Michael watched as he took aim, tracking the guy’s erratic movements. The Vagabond drew in a slow breath, held it, and then fired once.

_Headshot._

The guy went down and the Vagabond stood, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He made his way back down the hill as Ray and Michael looked on silently.

The masked assassin struck an intimating and terrifying figure as he strode towards Larry Tupper. Michael could hear the fallen man pleading for his life as the Vagabond loomed over him.

Ignoring his pleas, the Vagabond simply struck him in the head with the end of his rifle. He soundlessly went to each of the fallen men, checking their pulses. Seemingly satisfied, he pulled a belt off of Ray’s target and used it to tunicate Larry’s bleeding leg.

“All clear,” he called up to them finally. “Go check to see if the last guys dead. Then we’ll get out of here and drop this one off.”

Ray scrambled to pack up his rifle.

Michael followed suit, breathing hard.

“Well, remind me not to piss him off,” Ray whispered to Michael eyes wide.

“I think I already fucked that up,” Michael admitted, glancing down at the Vagabond as he scooped Larry off the ground and lifted him into a fireman’s carry.

“Nah,” Ray said. “With that guy, I’m sure if he was _really_ pissed, we’d fucking know it.”

“Sure,” Michael replied, even if he didn’t feel sure at all. “But if he starts chopping me up into little pieces after this I’m blaming you.”

 

* * *

 

At the second location, the Vagabond taught them patience.

After dropping Larry off at trailer in the desert and getting a hefty wad of cash from a batty-looking old lady in a muumuu, the Vagabond had taken them to Davis Quartz.

Davis Quartz was an old terraced quarry that had once been a rare earth mine. Ray tracked their next target, a guy called Ralph Ostrowski to the very bottom of the mine.

The Vagabond had told them the guy had supposedly been sleeping in a bulldozer left in the quarry. He also told him that this target was wanted dead, not alive, so they didn’t have to be as careful. Michael figured then that it wasn’t exactly “legit” bounty hunting work they were doing, but hey, money was money.

After scoping the area out, they realized Ralph was nowhere in site.

“Intel says he heads into town sometimes to take odd jobs. He must leave his phone behind. We’ll have to wait,” the Vagabond said finally after checking the mine again.

“Wait? Seriously?” Michael complained. “For how long?”

“Long as it takes for him to get here,” the Vagabond replied brusquely. “He’ll be coming in from the north entrance. We can set up in the back of the truck and pop him when he comes in.”

Sighing slightly, Michael hopped in the truck bed and began methodically setting up his drag bag along with Ray. The Vagabond leaned up against the side of the truck, scanning the horizon.

“So what’s the longest you’ve had to wait for a target to get into position?” Ray asked as he checked his rifle.

“Around three or four days,” the Vagabond replied. “Give or take.”

Ray whistled, impressed. “What was the hit? If you don’t mind sharing.”

“A German bureaucrat on a climbing vacation in the Alps. Spent some time holed up in a freezing cave, waiting for him and his climbing crew to come my way. An early autumn snowstorm held them up for a few extra days. My toes almost froze off while I was waiting.”

“Did you get the guy?” Michael asked.

“I always get the guy,” the Vagabond replied. “That sounded weird, didn’t it?”

“Mr. Popular over here,” Ray said with a laugh. “Must be a real dreamboat.”

Michael was surprised to hear the Vagabond let out a low chuckle.

Ray continued to pester the Vagabond with various questions about his life as an assassin as they waited. Some of them he answered. Many of them he didn’t. It was strange getting a peak behind the curtain into the life of a man so wrapped up in mystery. Michael had to remind himself that no matter what the Vagabond said, and no matter what he shared with them, he wasn’t one of them.

He was a free agent, a killer with one, singular goal in mind.

And like Gus had said, the Vagabond would toss them aside without question if any of them stood in the way of what he was after.

Michael glanced back over at Ray, who was trying to get the Vagabond to admit to any number of famous assassinations.

“JFK?”

The Vagabond scoffed. “Just how old do you think I am?”

“Princess Diana?”

“That was an accident,” he replied with a sigh. “That I _did not_ cause,” he added hurriedly after he saw Ray gasp dramatically.

Michael shook his head at them, glancing back towards the road. Up ahead, he could see a cloud of dust being tossed up by a car, moving slowly towards them.

“We got company on our twelve,” Michael hissed to them.

Ray and the Vagabond glanced up.

“Alright,” the Vagabond whispered. “See if you can spot him. He’s an old guy in his sixties, portly, balding.”

Michael tracked the car with his rifle, finally seeing the guy at the wheel through the dust. “That’s definitely him.”

“You want to take the shot?” the Vagabond asked him, staring at him through the black eyeholes of his mask.

“I dunno.” Michael shrugged. “Maybe Ray should do it.”

“Dude,” Ray said, grabbing his shoulder. “You got this.”

“Practice makes perfect,” the Vagabond said. “You won’t get any better if you take one shot and then give up.”

“Fine,” Michael growled, breathing through his nose. “Here goes fucking nothing. Better be ready to take this asshole down once I miss.”

He took aim, leaning his gun up against the tailgate. He waited for Ralph to slow to a stop, parking along the outer rim of the mine. Using the frame of the car window to help him aim, Michael moved his reticle over the guy’s head.

“Remember,” the Vagabond said softly. “Once you pull the trigger, follow through once you hear the click. And don’t look up from the scope until you see him go down.”

“Right,” Michael whispered. “Here I go.”

This time, he pulled the trigger all the way through - and watched as Ralph Ostrowski slumped over the wheel of his car, dead.

“Ha!” Ray said with excitement, clapping Michael on the back. “Nailed him!”

“Nice shot,” the Vagabond said. “Let’s bag him up and move to the next one.”

 

* * *

 

At the third location, the Vagabond taught them humility.

The third target was a very, _very_ old man. Michael had no idea why someone was putting up the big bucks to bring in a guy who looked like a stray breeze would turn him to ash.

They wound up near a decrepit little homeless encampment near Procopio Beach, nestled underneath a train overpass.

“We’re looking for Curtis Weaver, anti-capitalist activist. Apparently he’s been hiding out here, disguising himself as one of the homeless,” the Vagabond informed them as they pulled up along the train tracks above the encampment.

“Jeez, what’d he do?” Ray asked as they all stepped out of the truck.

“No idea, I generally don’t ask too many questions unless it’s relevant to the job.”

“Fair enough,” Michael replied. “So, lets grab this guy before old Ralph here starts stinking.”

He patted the truck bed, where they had bagged up the second target.

The Vagabond shook his head. “I’m going in alone on this. I’ll just move in and grab the guy and get him back up here. No guns needed.”

“What, why?” Michael asked.

“There are a lot of people down there, I don’t want to have to take them all out.”

“So? Larry had guys with him and you had no problem shooting them down,” Michael shot back.

“I’m not about to storm into a homeless encampment guns blazing,” the Vagabond replied in a clipped voice.

“Seems kinda hypocritical if you ask me,” Michael said with a shrug. “Don’t see why they should be any different.”

“Dude, just leave it,” Ray said quietly.

Michael sighed, throwing his arms up in the air. “Fuck it! Do what you want I guess! We’ll wait here then.”

The Vagabond nodded silently and headed off, disappearing down the hill.

It didn’t take long for him to return, hefting the skinny and unconscious form of Curtis Weaver over his shoulders. He tossed the guy in the back seat and got back into the driver’s seat without a word.

Once they had pulled back onto the road, the Vagabond finally spoke up.

“They call that place Dignity Village,” the Vagabond said quietly. “Though there’s not much dignity to be found in that kind of life. Guess I just don’t like the idea of causing trouble in a place full of people who have already seen the worst kind of trouble life can throw at them. That's all,” he added, shrugging a little.

“Yeah, I can get that,” Ray replied calmly. He glanced back towards Michael. “Right dude?”

Michael found himself nodding. He had known that kind of life once too, not so long ago. “Yeah, sorry about mouthing off like an idiot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said the Vagabond.

“Yeah, giving people shit is like 50% of Michael’s personality,” Ray said, voice lighter.

“Hey!” Michael protested.

“What’s the other 50%?” the Vagabond asked.

“Pure, unadulterated rage,” Ray said with a laugh.

“Fuck you, fight me bitch!”

The Vagabond snorted. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that.”

 

* * *

 

At the final location, Ray and Michael taught the Vagabond how to have a little fun.

“This is fucking awesome!” Michael howled as he sped down the Mt. Chiliad bike trail on a stolen Sanchez.

“This is insane, incredibly, horrible insane,” the Vagabond growled from his own Sanchez as Michael overtook him.

“Can’t hear you guys!” Ray hooted. “Gotta go fast!”

He zoomed by them, whooping in delight.

Moving across the horizon towards the sea and dangling from a rainbow parachute was their final target, Glenn Scoville – the former VP of Schlongberg Sachs – the guy who had the highest price on his head by far.

The dude sure picked the wrong day to go parachuting.

After Michael, Ray and the Vagabond had dropped off their last two guys and collected their cash, they had taken the aerial tramway up to the top of Chiliad in search of the final target.

Upon confronting Glenn Scoville, he had made the choice to leap off the top of the mountain rather than have a… civilized discussion.

So Michael and Ray had made the rather slapdash decision to pursue the guy on the off road motorcycles they nicked from some unsuspecting bikers.

The Vagabond had been less than thrilled with their plan, but he had no choice but to follow them down the dangerous mountain trail, stealing a motorcycle of his own.

“Go Ray, go!” Michael cheered as Ray tore ahead of the pack.

“I’ve lost my damn mind, following you two idiots.”

Michael couldn’t help but laugh at the Vagabond’s grumblings.

“Yeah you have! Keep up, motherfucker!” he cried, shooting forward off of a jump.

Up ahead, Scoville hit a rough landing on the Paleto Cove beach. Michael watched as the guy tumbled forward into the shallow water, struggling with his parachute as he scrambled to stand up.

Ray zoomed in, coming to a skidding halt in the sand near the water’s edge. Michael followed close behind, flanking the guy, his front wheel sending up a wave of water.

Finally the Vagabond came thundering in, coming to a perfect stop on the guy’s right side.

They had him surrounded; his only path of escape was out to sea.

“Who the fuck are you people?” Scoville cried in a panic, stumbling back into the ocean waves. “What do you want from me?”

“It’s nothing personal,” the Vagabond said coldly, getting off his bike and dropping it down onto the sand. “You’ve got a bounty on your head that we need to collect.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” the guy swore. “I never thought they’d… H-how much are they paying you?”

Michael and Ray exchanged significant glances.

“25k,” the Vagabond lied. The bounty had been for a little over 15k.

“I’ll double it!” the guy cried.

The Vagabond stepped forward menacingly.

“Triple it!” Scoville shrieked. “Please! Don’t do this.”

The Vagabond cocked his head, staring the guy down. “Fine. You got the money? Make the transfer.”

“Wh-what? Really?” Scoville stuttered. He pulled out his smartphone. “If you mean it, I’ll do it.”

“I mean it,” the Vagabond responded. “C’mon.”

He moved forward, drawing a deadly looking knife. Scoville shrank back in fear, but the Vagabond merely went to cut him free of the tangled ropes of his parachute. Michael and Ray trailed after him as the Vagabond led the guy back onto the beach.

They watched as the Vagabond gave him quiet instructions to transfer money into what sounded like four separate accounts. The guy nodded along eagerly, doing everything the Vagabond asked he loomed over him forebodingly.

Once it was done, the Vagabond stared down at his smartphone, nodding finally.

“Looks to be in order,” he said, turning back towards Scoville. “Nice doing business with you.”

With that, he grabbed the guy, putting him in chokehold. Scoville flailed dramatically in his arms.

“Dude!” Ray cried, stepping forward. “What the hell?!”

“Relax, I’m not killing him,” the Vagabond said evenly as Scoville’s struggles petered off. “Large wire transfers like that take a few days to go through. I need to keep him around to make sure he doesn’t cancel them, or leak any of my offshore accounts.”

“Fucking hell,” Michael swore as the Vagabond dropped Scoville’s unconscious body onto the sand rather unceremoniously. “So you’re just gonna, what, hang out with this dumbass for a few days?”

“Nah,” the Vagabond said. “I’m still turning him in. I’ll just ask my contact to hold off on completing the bounty for a few days. He’s wanted dead or alive so I can have her off him once the money’s been collected. It’s a win-win.”

“Cold,” Ray intoned. “Ice cold.”

The Vagabond shrugged. “Your boss needs the money, I hardly think he’ll protest.”

Michael couldn’t help but agree. If they needed the money, they couldn’t get picky about betraying the trust of some scummy insider trader.

“So,” Michael said as the Vagabond moved to pick up the unconscious Scoville. “That was pretty fucking awesome.”

“What, the crazy parachute chase down the mountain thing?” Ray asked, following them back towards the bikes. “Yeah, definite highlight. I thought I was gonna die, but ya know, at least I’d die doing some sick tricks.”

“Even you have to admit it was pretty damn fun!” Michael called to the Vagabond as he propped Scoville up on a bike.

“Pssht.”

“Dude, you had fun! Say it! We won’t tell, promise!” Ray teased, grinning widely.

“There may have been a… small whiff of fun to it. But it was still incredibly stupid. And dangerous.”

“And badass,” Michael added, nodding eagerly.

The Vagabond chuckled. “That too.”

Ray helped tie Scoville to the Vagabond’s back with the ropes of his parachute so they could ride back to the truck together. He then hopped back onto his own bike, Michael following suit.

“So Vagabond,” Michael shouted to him before they took off. “Calling you that feels really weird.”

“Yeah,” Ray agreed. “You got a name we can call you? I mean, you can even make one up if you want. I’d do it fast though, or I might have to start calling you Chuckles.”

“You do that, I’m cutting off a finger,” the Vagabond said darkly.

“Okay Chuckles is a no-go,” Ray said amicably. “How about Mr. Friendly!”

“Two fingers.”

“Yikes,” Ray hissed. “I know! You can be Spooky Scary Skeleton Man!”

“Three fingers.”

Ray laughed. “Alright, alright, cutting my losses. Seriously though, Vagabond doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. It’d be nice to have a normal, human name to call you, ya know? Gotta give us something, here!”

The Vagabond ignored him, taking off and heading down towards the turn off into the freeway. Michael and Ray followed behind him, coming to a stop to wait for the rush of traffic to pass.

The Vagabond’s next words were almost drowned out by the sound of speeding cars and roaring engines.

“I’ll... think about it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Thirteen! Next chapter will be up around Thursday/Friday and be mostly gents-focused! 
> 
> I should also mention all the chapter titles are taken from songs that play on the radio stations in the various GTA games, I'll go back and add notes to credit the others.
> 
> Chapter Title Song:  
> Vagabond by the Greenskeepers (GTA 4)
> 
> See you soon and thanks so much for reading and commenting!


	14. I’m Left, You’re Right, She’s Gone

** The Devils You Know **

Part Three

The Wolf At The Door

Chapter Fourteen

I’m Left, You’re Right, She’s Gone

 

_Achievement City, Texas, Nine Years Ago._

 

Jack led the way into the bank gun first.

People were screaming before she even got the door open. She shoved a screeching woman to the ground with the end of her shotgun.

“Alright, everybody pays attention, no one gets hurt!” Geoff cried, storming in behind her.

Jameson and Casey moved in after him. Together they got busy gathering the hostages. They shoved their guns at each of the bank patrons curled on the floor and they scrambled away, crying and screaming.

Jack moved towards the tellers behind the safety screen.

“Open the door, or they’ll get worse than hurt!” Jack shouted to the security guard near the entrance to the back.

Jameson and Casey waved their guns towards the hostage threateningly.

The guard didn’t need to be told twice. He struggled with the lock for a moment before wrenching the door open. Jack and the crew streamed inside.

“Finally, prick!” she roared, slamming the end of her gun into the security guard’s face. He slummed over onto his knees, sputtering.

Geoff grabbed the guy by the collar of his jacket. “Hands behind your back, asshole!”

“C’mon, we’re giving you people everything you want!” the guard moaned as Geoff zip-tied his hands.

“Shut the hell up!” Jack shouted. “Get the door to the back office open, now!”

“I’ll do it, I’ll do it!” one of the female tellers sobbed.

Jack nodded. “Go, then.”

“I’ll set the charge, you handle the hostages,” Geoff said to Jack.

Geoff disappeared into the hallway that led to the bank’s safe as Jameson and Casey herded the hostages into the back office.

“Explosives set!” Geoff called, emerging from the hallway. “Trigger the charge!”

“Making the call!” Jack replied, pulling out her phone.

She dialed the number and waited.

A moment later they heard a soft beeping, then a raucous explosion ripped through the whole building, shaking it to its foundation.

“Hooo-eee!” Jameson hooted. “That’ll do it!”

“Nice one!” Casey said. “Get the goods!”

Jack led the way. The explosion had triggered a power outage in the building, and the hallway was illuminated by the eerie red glow of the emergency lights.

“Show me the money!” she shouted eagerly, moving forward.

“Slow and steady Jack,” Geoff called. “Make sure the goddamn buildings not gonna fall down on top of us!”

“Hey, if there’s one thing I know, it’s structural integrity!” she replied, rounding a corner. “We’re good!”

The safe had been blown clean open by the charge, part of the masonry had collapsed around in, and the air was filled with brick dust, glowing red in the emergency lights.

“There’s the cash!” Jack called gleefully, moving into the safe.

Casey trailed in behind her, laughing. “Money, money, money, must be funny!” she sang. “In a rich man’s world!”

Jameson came in, scooping Casey up in his arms. “And we’re gonna be rich tonight, babe! What’s say I treat you to a nice steak dinner in a fancy hotel, eh?”

“Make it surf and turf and I’m in, cowboy,” Casey replied with a wink. “You two should join us, make it a double date!”

“Fuck off,” Jack replied with a chuckle, scooping up money alongside Geoff. “Save it for the hotel you two and focus on getting the cash.”

“Alright alright,” Casey conceded, moving to shovel money into her duffel. “God, look at all this. There’s enough here for us all to have a lot of fun with! The whole damn crew.”

“I wouldn’t say “a lot of ”. That’ll depend on what kinda fun you’re talking about,” Geoff said.

“Don’t be a party pooper, _Geoff_ ,” Jameson teased.

“Looks like we got all of it,” Jack called, giving the room another once-over. “Let’s blow this joint.”

Their bags full of cash, the crew began to file out of the safe. Jack nudged Geoff with her hip as they stepped back into the hallway together. He glanced over at her, tugging at the necklace around his neck like he did when he was nervous.

“What’s up?” she whispered. “You’re being all weird and quiet.”

“I am not,” he protested.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Okay, I’m just… anxious. It’s a big hit, what do you expect? A guy can’t feel a little nervous? _Jeez_.”

“Usually when you’re nervous you down a few shots of whiskey and call it a day. And don’t get defensive! A girl can’t be worried about her friend?” she shot back.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Geoff replied. “Let’s focus on getting out of here.”

Jack sighed as Geoff stomped off ahead of them.

As he rounded the corner out of the hallway, Jack saw him stumble abruptly out of view.

“I got him!” called an unfamiliar voice.

“Fuck,” she hissed, dashing up ahead, Jameson and Casey jogging behind her.

She froze when she saw Geoff being strong-armed by a huge security guard – a huge security guard who happened to be a pointing a pistol at Geoff’s temple.

In one rough movement the guy ripped off Geoff’s balaclava, shoving his head to the side to catch of glimpse of his face.

Jack raised her shotgun up. There was no way she’d be able to take out the guard without blasting Geoff too.

“I saw your fucking face, asshole!” the guard growled. “I’ll remember you. Now tell your friends to get on the ground!”

Slowly, Jack moved to kneel on the ground. She reached one hand behind her back, wiggling her fingers at Jameson and Casey.

“Heya buddy, why don’t you take a fucking chill pill, there? No one has to get hurt here,” Geoff hissed through the chokehold, eyes wide.

“YOU TWO, ON THE FUCKING GROUND!” the guard screamed, moving his pistol from Geoff’s temple to Jameson and Casey.

They kneeled behind Jack. She felt one of them slip their pistol quietly into her waiting hand.

Without missing a beat, Jack whipped her gun forward, aiming at the security guard’s forehead – and fired.

The guy tumbled back. Geoff shot forward out of the guard’s chokehold and into Jack’s arms.

“Holy shit,” Geoff whispered hoarsely.

“You okay?” she asked, bringing her fingers to his neck.

“Still breathing,” he answered. “Mostly.”

Geoff turned to stare down at the fallen security guard.

“Dead as dicks,” he said, kicking the guard’s side. “Serves him right. Didn’t think this place had the budget for an extra guard.”

“Let’s get out of here before any more assholes start coming out of the woodwork,” Jack said, ushering them all along.

They heard the sirens just as they reached the back exit.

“Fuck,” Jameson swore. “Cops incoming.”

“Better book it then!” Casey replied. She pushed the back door open and stepped out into the lot behind the bank, the others close behind.

Heavy, dark clouds had been gathering above all day. Now the sky had split, spilling a deluge of rain down upon the dry Texas dirt.

Through the grey field of rain, Jack glimpsed the flashing red and blue of police lights zooming towards them.

“Let’s move it!” Jack bellowed, dashing towards the road, shielding her eyes from the rain.

Their driver, Johnnie, was supposed to be waiting for them across the street. Jack crossed the road towards the old farm across from the bank. The fields of sorghum were glowing gold against the deep grey sky.

“Where the fuck is he?” Jameson asked, glancing frantically around.

“Fucker left us!” Casey cried, backing away from the oncoming police cars. “We need to get out of here.”

“Geoff, where’s the chopper supposed to meet us?” Jack asked, spinning to face Geoff, who was standing stock still, flabbergasted.

“Behind the Winchester’s Dairy, down the road a ways! Yoichi and Joel are meeting us there to cover our escape!” Geoff cried. “We’ll never make it on foot though, no cover!”

“We might not have a fucking choice!” Jack screamed, soaked and freezing and scared half to death. “But lets see if there’s a ride we can steal in the back!”

Geoff found an old pickup truck parked behind an old grain silo. They waited, shivering and tense as he worked to hotwire it.

“Stupid, fucking, piece of shit,” he grumbled, slamming his hands on the dashboard. “Fuck me – oh, wait. I got it!”

They leapt into the truck and Geoff took off past the bank - now crawling with police activity - and down the road.

“What the fuck Geoff!” Jack cried, shoving Geoff’s shoulder. “They fucking saw us! Why didn’t you take us through the field!”

“I think they’d have noticed a big fucking pickup barreling full speed through a family farm, asshole!” Geoff screamed back, taking a skidding turn through the rain-soaked streets.

“Fuck,” Jack growled. “Jameson, Casey, cover us!”

Jack passed the pistol back to them and watched as they leaned out the truck windows, popping off rounds at the pursuing cops.

“Nice one baby!” Casey cried as Jameson took out the cruiser nearest to them.

“Think I can get the guy behind him?” Jameson asked, leaning back out the window, grinning wildly. “Say hello to my little friend, fuckers!”

“Hell yeah!” Casey hollered with a kind of manic glee.

It was strange, how someone could be so vividly alive in one moment, and so indisputably, unbearably… _not_ in the next.

In one breath Casey was happily cheering her husband on and in her next she was screaming his name in agony.

Jack saw Jameson slump over in the rear view mirror.

She realized what had happened a half a second before Casey.

“Oh god,” Jack whispered, breath catching in her chest.

They had no time to stop, to grieve, to mourn, to fight back. Geoff kept driving as Casey screamed and wept in the backseat, clutching Jameson’s body to her chest.

They gained ground on the cops when Geoff took them past the railroad tracks just before a freight train barreled past.

Once at the Winchester’s Dairy, Casey refused to leave Jameson behind.

“Please,” Jack whispered, touching her back. “He wouldn’t want you to stay here, he’d want you to come with us, where it’s safe.”

“He’s fucking dead,” Casey sobbed, grabbing at Jameson’s soaked shirt. “He doesn’t want anything. What _I_ want is not to leave my fucking husband.”

“Casey, please,” Jack begged.

“Got word from Joel, the choppers waiting up ahead,” Geoff said from behind them, voice rough. “He doesn’t know what happened to Johnnie, but he and Yoichi are in position. I’m sorry, but we need to do this, _now_.”

Jack stood, gathering her duffle bag up in her arms. “Casey? Jameson’s take is yours. Stay here or come with us to the chopper, your choice.”

She walked away. Geoff trailed behind her. He didn’t say a word about her choice to leave half of the take with the grief-stricken woman.

She turned to look at him, taking in his rain-drenched clothes, his dark hair sticking to his forehead and neck, the weary grey-blue of his eyes, nearly the exact same color as the stormy sky above them. He was holding his necklace again, looking around like he was waiting for something to happen.

And then, Jack watched him fall.

It took a moment, to understand what was going on. She heard the shot ring out, and she spun, trying to find its source. When she turned back to Geoff she saw him slump over, clutching his gut.

“Fuck,” Geoff moaned. “That hurt.”

Jack saw red.

She moved to him, but Geoff held up a hand to stop her.

“Stop, Jack! _Sniper._ Get to cover!” he instructed, sinking back onto the muddy ground.

“No, I’m not –”

She stopped as another shot flew past her shoulder, narrowly missing her. Quickly, she dashed behind the side of the house.

“Must be the fucking feds,” Jack hissed, heart racing. “Someone must have ratted. Geoff, stay with me. I’ll get the bastard and get you out of here.”

“No!” Geoff groaned, wincing. “You hear the fucking sirens? Jack, you need to go, _now_. Joel’s waiting with the chopper!”

“I’m not leaving you Geoff! You fuck!” she screamed, trying desperately to keep from crying.

“Jack, I’m so fucking sorry,” he replied, voice wavering. “But you _have_ to.”

Up ahead, she couldn’t see Casey any more. Either she had fled or the cops had gotten her.

Jack watched as Geoff slid his duffle bag towards her. “Save it for me,” he whispered. “In our old spot. I’ll meet you there, once the heat has died down.”

_Yeah right, asshole._

“This too,” he added.

He pulled his necklace off, the necklace she had made for him, years ago. She wore a matching one - two bullet shells, fired from the same gun. Jack had stolen the gun from one of her foster dads. It had been the first gun either of them had fired, out in a makeshift shooting range they made in the desert.

Afterwards, Jack had collected the shells and saved them for years before making them into two necklaces - a sort of gift, to celebrate the day they decided to enter into a life of crime – _together_.

He tossed her the necklace. She caught it, slipping it around her neck alongside her own.

“Promise you'll keep it safe for me, I’ll be back for it, so don’t fucking lose it,” Geoff said wearily.

_Liar._

“Okay, I promise,” she whispered back. “I’ll be waiting.”

She was soaked head to toe, but there was no mistaking her tears for rain. Jack left Geoff, lying there in the mud. She took the money and ran.

Jack never forgave herself for that.

Geoff’s mother buried him in a little cemetery just outside of Achievement City.

Jack, still in hiding, had to cry at his funeral from her truck, parked just outside the gates. When the funeral had ended, she slipped quietly into the cemetery. She dropped both her necklace and Geoff’s into the grave before it could be filled with dirt.

After that, Jack left Texas that very night, and didn’t look back.

The only stop she made was their spot. They used to hide out under an old bridge at the end of one of the bike trails around Achievement City, smoking pot and talking shit. She dug for hours, burying Geoff’s take in four ammo boxes in the soil below the bridge. After marking the spot with a few rocks, she left.

Jack had no interest in keeping or spending the money her best friend had died to get. She had scarcely spent a dime of hers.

Joel had warned her that if the police had taken Casey, they might be able to use the serial numbers on her bills to track down their share. So they’d have to be careful how they spent it, anyway.

It felt like it had all been for nothing.

There was no reason to stay in Texas anymore.

So Jack got into her car and drove until she saw the bright lights of Los Santos, glimmering over the horizon.

 

* * *

 

Jack was back.

For how long, Geoff didn’t know. It had taken a lot of begging and pleading to get her back into LS, and even then he wasn’t sure how long she was intending to stay. She had tried to get him to make a definitive promise on the whole “rescue Mica from the clutches of the fucking Dragon” situation, but Geoff hadn’t been able to give her much more than a relative timeline.

First things first, they had to deal with Jason Grant.

Geoff was currently waiting for Jack outside Covington Supplies off El Rancho Boulevard. On his right side was the Vagabond, straddling his black Akuma motorcycle and scrolling idly through his phone. The Vagabond had traded his usual leather jacket, dark jeans and skull mask for a sharp business suit and dark tinted motorcycle helmet. It was as normal looking as Geoff had ever seen the assassin, and he found that slightly unnerving.

On Geoff’s left side was his most recent purchase – a new and shiny Maverick Helicopter.

Almost all of the Vagabond’s bounty hunting earnings had gone to purchasing the chopper, save the money they had scammed from some investment banker that hadn’t gone through yet. The rest of it Geoff had paid for out of pocket with the money he had earned from the Jewel Store heist and the few jobs he had done for Dragovic.

Geoff could only hope that the big purchase would be worth it, in the end.

Jack pulled up in her red Canis Bodhi truck a few minutes later. She hopped out, dressed rather drearily (at least for Jack) in grey sweatpants and a black track jacket, sunglasses hiding her expression.

“Thanks for coming,” Geoff said, stepping forward.

Jack merely nodded, glancing from the Vagabond sitting idly on his bike to the waiting helicopter.

“I’m guessing that thing is why you needed me so badly,” she said, nodding towards the chopper. “Cause I’m the only one who can fly?”

“No!” Geoff protested. “I mean, yeah you can fly, which is useful, but I _wanted_ you back here too, cause ya know, I trust you and all that shit.”

Jack shook her head, sighing. “Fine. Why’d you get a chopper with the fucking Weazel News logo on it though? Kind of conspicuous, don't you think?”

Geoff grinned. “That’s the point. We got it painted on there on purpose. No one will think twice if they see a Weazel News flying around the city. A big fucking military cargo bob like yours would draw some fucking attention.”

“The city?” Jack asked, approaching the chopper. “I’m flying this thing into the city?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, you’re a pretty excellent pilot, so I figured you can handle dodging a few skyscrapers.”

“You _know_ that I can, I’m just wondering what exactly we’re fucking doing here. You said something about kidnapping a guy over the phone?”

Geoff nodded. “I didn’t want to explain the whole thing over the phone in case you thought I had lost my goddamned mind or something… but basically what happened is–”

“Clocks ticking,” the Vagabond interrupted, tapping his watch. “You can explain on the way. I’ve got to get into position if I want to meet you there in time.”

“Shit,” Geoff cursed, checking his own watch. “You’re right. I’ll get my gear on. You head out and I’ll call you once we’re there.”

“Just text me when you’re ready,” the Vagabond said, starting up his motorcycle. “I’ll see you coming.”

With a roaring rev of his engine, he took off down the road.

 

* * *

 

“So what I’m getting from this is that you and Mr. Tall, Dark and Creepy decided the best way to kidnap this IAA snitch was to rappel down a fucking skyscraper in broad daylight, smash through the window and spirit him away by chopper. _Jeeeesus Christ_ , Geoff,” Jack sighed into her headset.

Geoff sighed from his spot next to her in the chopper, already sweating in the heavy and uncomfortable rappelling gear. “Yes Jack, that’s _exactly_ what I thought. We figured going in fast and hot with a chopper would be a fair shake safer than trying to fight our way through 50 floors of armed and dangerous government fucks, you know?”

“Alright, fair enough,” Jack replied. “So you and the Vagabond came up with this plane, alone? Why aren’t the young-ins getting in on this?”

Geoff scratched at his beard, staring out at the little cars zooming by on the freeway below. “I didn’t wanna involve the kids on this one. Especially not after Gav and the others got hurt. This isn’t their fight. I sent ‘em off to do a few chores for Dragovic. Michael and Lindsay are hunting down that district attorney Dragovic wants dead and the other’s are boosting cars.”

“So if this isn’t their fight, then is it mine? Or the Vagabond’s? Why are we different?”

“The Vagabond has been surprisingly helpful and cooperative lately. Ray sort of talked him into. Either that or he gave him a fucking stellar blowjob. Besides, he’s _technically_ getting paid. Or at least, I told him to keep the extra 75k he made bounty hunting the other day.”

“Okay… then what about me?” Jack asked.

Geoff shrugged. “You’re… _you_ , Jack. It’s just different. I would say some shit like “we’re in this together” but that just sounds stupid and selfish considering most of the messes we’ve been cleaning up as of late have been my own. If you’re asking cause you wanna get paid, then I’ll fucking pay you - no goddamn problem.”

Jack sighed. “I don’t want your money, Geoff.”

“Then what do you want?” he asked.

That was the real question.

“IAA buildings up ahead,” Jack said softly in lieu of answering. “Where do you want me?”

“The access point is on the west side of the tower,” Geoff replied, trying to keep the edge of disappointment out of his voice. “Swing us over there so I can rappel down. I gotta text Vagabond real quick.”

“Roger that,” Jack replied. “You know what you’re doing with this shit?”

“Sure, I mean, the ex wife and I took a mountain climbing class during our “lets learn new skills together” phase of our marriage. Can’t be all that different,” Geoff replied, sending off his text.

“Jesus Christ,” Jack sighed. “And “ex”? So it’s official then?”

“Signed the last of the papers a few days ago,” Geoff replied. “Officially a bachelor again.”

“You should have said something, we could have thrown a party.”

“I was a little busy being up shit creek without a paddle, but good idea. What’s the opposite of an engagement party? We’ll throw one of those when all this shit is done.”

Jack laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”

It was so easy to forget that they were fighting.

Geoff cleared his throat. “Alright. Here’s goes nothing. Try not to fuck around too much up there. Getting smashed up against the side of a building is not the way I wanna go.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Jack replied, giving a mock salute as Geoff dropped down and out of sight.

 

* * *

 

The Vagabond hated being without his mask in a public setting. It made him feel exposed, vulnerable, like at any moment someone might see him, recognize his face and point him out for all the world to see.

It was not a good feeling.

But he had little choice in the matter. He just had to make his way up 35 stories to the rooftop of the Arcadius Business Center without being made.

He had had a long day yesterday, prepping for the heist. He had entered the building, moving through the crowds of business people coming and going. The Vagabond was able to easily nick an ID card from an unsuspecting salary man. It wasn’t often that he got a chance to practice his sleight of hand. Luckily he wasn’t too rusty.

After nabbing an ID card for himself, he’d gone up to the roof to hide his sniper rifle, (disguised in a golf bag) taping it up beneath the building’s water tank.

With all his prep work complete the Vagabond now slid his stolen ID and passed through the turnstiles in the lobby, making his way towards the elevator.

“Where are you heading hon?” asked an older woman in a navy pantsuit, smiling at him as he stepped inside.

The Vagabond had to remind himself to smile back, wearing the mask for so long sometimes made him forget that facial expression were a pretty important part of most human interactions.

“The 35th, thank you,” he replied, trying his hand at what he hoped was a natural smile.

“Top floor? There you go,” she replied, pressing the buttons for the 15th and the 35th floor.

The elevator stopped three more times before reaching the 15th floor, letting in a slew of people in suits.

The Vagabond pressed himself up against the back wall of the elevator.

Shooting someone in the head?

_No problem._

Slitting someone’s throat?

_Easy._

Standing stock still in a cramped and crowded elevator?

_Somewhat challenging._

The crowd dissipated as the elevator moved closer and closer to the top. The Vagabond released a breath.

Finally, he was alone.

The elevator gave a cheerful little ding, the doors sliding open to the 35th floor. The Vagabond stepped out.

He moved past boardrooms and executive offices to the roof access. Yesterday he had made a false police call about spotting a suspicious person on top of the roof of the building. When a cop had come along to investigate, he had slipped a coin in the roof access door to keep it from locking.

He tried the handle of the door. It started to slide open, and after to checking to see if the coast was clear, the Vagabond slipped outside.

He found his bag and sniper rifle safe and sound and pulled it free. He removed his spare mask from within and tugged it on. It was unlikely that anyone would be able to make out his face from his spot on the roof, but… better safe than sorry.

It didn’t take long to set up. Geoff texted him just as he was adjusting his scope. He glanced at the smoggy horizon, spotting their chopper buzzing towards the IAA building.

He turned on his comms when he saw Geoff begin to rappel down the building.

“I’m all set up and in position,” he said, watching Geoff through the scope. “Can you hear me?”

“Coming in loud and clear,” Jack replied. “Geoff, you hearing us?”

“Sure am, trying to focus on not projectile vomiting all over the windows, here,” Geoff grunted, out of breath. “Vagabond, let me know when I hit the right floor.”

“Sure,” he replied. “Keep going.”

The Vagabond counted down the floors as Geoff plunged downward. Once he got to the eighteenth from the top, he flipped his comm on again.

“They’re on the 36th floor, so the next floor down is the one you want,” he said to Geoff. “I’m pretty sure I can see our guy. I’ve only got the back of his head in view, but it looks like he’s getting the grilling of the lifetime.”

“How many people are in the room besides Grant?” Geoff asked.

“Three. All armed. I’d try to bust in quick – in and out – before they get a chance to call for reinforcements.”

“Alright,” Geoff let out a heavy breath, sounding anxious. “Here I go.”

“Be careful,” Jack and the Vagabond said in unison.

Geoff laughed into the comms. “Okay, Mom and Dad.”

It took three tries for Geoff to smash through the tempered glass window. The Vagabond watched as Geoff made his collision, swooping inside as the glass shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Through his scope he could see Geoff grab at Jason Grant, flicking his pistol to the man’s temple.

The other IAA agents in the room quickly drew guns of their own.

“Little help?” Geoff called quietly into his comm.

The Vagabond trained his rifle on the first agent’s forehead, taking her out. He picked off the next guy just as he was backing away from his fallen friend’s body. The third agent had run from the room, disappearing down the corridor.

The Vagabond glanced through the other windows of the building, seeing more agents streaming their way.

“Get behind cover. I’ll clear the guys coming at you. Once I’m done you’ll need to fly outta there – _fast_ ,” he called to Geoff.

“Got it,” Geoff replied, grabbing Grant roughly and ducking behind a desk in the corner of the office.

The Vagabond drew in a breath, moving his sights back to the onrushing agents. Most of them went down before they were able to fire a single shot. He took out the last two as they fired at Geoff, trying to wrangle a struggling Grant.

“You alright there?” he asked once they were all down.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he replied wearily. “Calm down asshole! We’re trying to help you!”

Not necessarily true, but Grant stopped struggling in Geoff’s arms at least.

Geoff moved to the window, he quickly tied an extra climbing harness around Grant and hooked him up to the rope.

“Take us up, Jack!” Geoff called.

The Vagabond watch as Jack moved up to the top of the IAA building, dropping Geoff and Grant down before bringing the chopper down as well. The two men clambered inside and she took off again. It all took less than two minutes. She really was one hell of a pilot.

“Shit,” Geoff swore suddenly into the comms. “Vagabond, you gotta get outta there. I heard them mobilizing choppers before Jack took me up. They know there’s a sniper on the roof.”

Before the Vagabond could move to escape he heard Jack swear loudly into the comms as well.

“Too late,” she growled. “You got a bogey coming at you on your right and more on their way. You better take them out or we’ll never get out of here alive.”

“What?” Geoff cried. “Those are attack choppers - he’ll get shot to shit. Besides there’s no fucking cover up there!”

“Don’t have much of a choice,” the Vagabond replied tersely, moving his gun towards the oncoming chopper.

“Fuck,” Geoff hissed. “Don’t suppose you brought your rocket launcher there, eh Vagabond?”

“Nope,” he replied, lining up his shot. “Too cumbersome. I’ll just snipe them.”

“What the helicopters?” Jack asked. “It’ll take a lotta bullets to bring one down.”

“Not aiming for the choppers,” the Vagabond replied.

“You’re going for the pilots?” Jack questioned in disbelief. “Good fucking luck.”

With that, he looked through his scope, tracking the pilot of the first chopper. He held his breath, moving his gun ever so slowly.

He took the shot. The pilot fell forward and the chopper spun out of control, careening towards the ground.

“Holy shit,” Geoff breathed. “Nice one.”

“Goddammit! There’s two more coming up on us, fast!” Jack cried abruptly.

“Get us the hell out of here then!” Geoff screamed back, voice cracking.

“I fucking can’t, Geoff, there’s no way you can take them down with your shitty little pistol! I need to keep us close to the Vagabond so he can take them out!”

“This is fucking insane!”

“It was your goddamn idea, dumbass!”

As the two argued, the Vagabond silently trained his sights on the two choppers buzzing towards Jack and Geoff. She was doing some tricky maneuvers in the sky to try to avoid the helicopters guns. He could hear Geoff firing off rounds from the side door.

It took two shots to take down the second pilot. He got her in the shoulder when she jerked to the left unexpectedly.

The next hit he got on her was a headshot.

The third chopper went down when it made the mistake of veering away from Jack to shoot at the Vagabond instead. The guy took a perfectly lined up shot to the face, his chopper tumbling out of the air.

Over the comms, the Vagabond could still here Geoff and Jack screaming at each other while Jason Grant quietly sobbed in the background.

“If you two are quite finished…” he said with exasperation.

“Shit!” Geoff exclaimed. “We clear?”

“For now,” the Vagabond replied. “I’d take off now before they get a chance to scramble jets.”

“Okay,” Jack said, breathing out heavily. “You should hightail it too, Vagabond. They’ll be looking for a shooter on the roof.”

He had already removed his mask and finished packing away his rifle, tucking it back into the golf bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“I’m on my way,” he said, standing back up. “Get Grant to the warehouse, I’ll meet you there and we can figure out our next step.”

“Sounds good, watch yourself,” Jack replied. “And nice shooting out there, by the way.”

The Vagabond couldn’t help but grin, just a little. “Thanks. Nice flying.”

“What about me?” Geoff asked with a whine. “Don’t I get any compliments?”

 _“No,”_ Jack said with a growl. “Wait. Your ass actually looked pretty decent in that stupid rappelling outfit,” Jack answered.

“Just decent?!”

“… _And_ that’s my cue to leave,” the Vagabond said, pulling open the roof access door and stepping back inside. “Going quiet. See you soon.”

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take long for Jason Grant to realize that the crew who had pulled him from the IAA building were not his saviors.

Jack and Geoff had brought him to an old warehouse marked for demolition off Dutch London in the industrial zone of Banning.

The place was sufficiently dark, dank and disturbing – well suited for the grim work they needed to do.

Jason Grant had dirt on Geoff, Burnie and every other shady FIB operative that had been involved in Geoff’s deal. They needed to know who, if anyone, he had shared the information with.

Jack could only hope the guy would be willing to talk freely.

Currently they had zip-tied Grant to a chair in the center of the warehouse. He was blindfolded and gagged, occasionally choking out a few muffled sobs and pleas for help.

Jack turned away, trying to ignore the uncomfortable churning in her gut.

“The Vagabond should be pulling up any minute,” Geoff spoke up, strolling up behind her and slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Then we’ll get started, I guess.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jack exhaled, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t fucking like this.”

“You think I do?” Geoff asked, voice low. “We don’t have a choice here. We need to know who he told about me, or else we’re screwed!”

“We’re talking about torturing a man, Geoff. A man whose only crime so far is putting his nose where it doesn't belong!” Jack hissed. “How can that sit right with you?”

“It might not have to come to that!” Geoff replied. “Please tell me you’re not taking off again.”

Jack shook her head, staring down at the ground. “I’ll stay and help you however I can, but there’s no way I’m gonna do any-”

“I don’t expect you to,” Geoff replied quickly, grabbing her shoulders. “It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up. I don’t like this any more than you, but if it comes to it, I can do it.”

Jack looked up at him, breathing hard. “If it was anyone else, I’d have fucking bailed by now. You get that, asshole?”

He swallowed, nodding. “I know.”

She grabbed his head in her hands, bringing their foreheads together roughly. “I don’t think you do. Not really.”

“I don’t under-” he stopped short, hearing the warehouse door creak open behind them.

The Vagabond stepped inside, toting what looked like a large, black duffel bag.

Jack sighed and pulled away.

“Don’t make me fucking regret this,” she said quietly, walking away.

“Sorry I’m late,” the Vagabond said, striding towards them. “Had to make a pit stop.”

The Vagabond had ditched the suit and changed back into his leather jacket and skull mask. He glanced passively at Grant, still struggling feebly in his chair.

“I take it you made it out okay?” Geoff said, clearing his throat. “Not too much heat?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he replied, nonchalant.

“Whatcha got there?” Jack asked, nodding down to his duffel bag.

“Oh this? Just some stuff I picked up to aid in our… questioning. Though, if our friend here talks,” he said, loud enough for Grant to hear. “He won’t have to worry about what’s in the bag.”

Hearing his words, Grant began to whimper into his gag again.

“Let’s just get started then,” Geoff said roughly, face drawn.

He moved over to Grant’s side, ripping his gag out.

“Please,” Grant moaned as soon as his mouth was free. “Please, let me go. You’ve got the wrong man!”

“No can do, buddy,” Geoff replied, he went to pull off Grant’s blindfold as well.

“Wait,” Jack said, stopping him. “You want him to see your face?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Geoff replied, tugging the blindfold down. “He already knows who I am, don’t you pal? You spied on my files over at the FIB, right?”

Grant looked up at him, eyes wide. “Y-yes. You’re Geoff Fink.”

“So you understand what kinda stakes I've got riding on this. I need to know who else you told about me. Hey. You listening?” Geoff demanded, seeing Grant’s eyes had wandered over to the other corner of the warehouse.

Jack turned to see the Vagabond quietly unpacking the contents of his duffle bag onto metal rolling cart.

“Is th-that the V-Vagabond? Wh-whats he doing?” Grant asked in a panic, staring as the masked assassin examined a pair pliers.

Geoff grabbed Grant’s head, turning him away. “You won’t need to worry about him if you fucking talk. _Now._ Who else knows about me and my deal?”

“No one! I promise I didn’t tell anyone!”

“Why were you snooping in Burnie’s office then?” Geoff demanded. “You went in there, looking for something. Did someone tell you to do that?”

“I promise,” Grant sobbing, shoulders shaking. “I didn’t tell anyone, please, please, let me go!”

“You’re fucking lying!” Geoff roared, startling Jack a little. He wasn’t one to raise his voice very often, so hearing him get so worked up was all kinds of surreal. “Who are you protecting?”

“I’m not…” Grant cried, head slumping down. “I can’t…”

Geoff spun away, growling in frustration.

Jack stepped forward, ready to say something, but the Vagabond got there first. He motioned for them both to come over.

“Listen,” he said in a low voice. “Right now he’s more afraid of the person he’s working for than he is of us.”

“So?” Jack asked.

“So…” Geoff said despairingly. “We have to give him something to be afraid of.”

“Fuck,” Jack swore, breathing out heavily.

“Fuck is right,” Geoff replied, glancing down at the array of tools the Vagabond had laid out. “So, uh, how should I start?”

He picked up a heavy wrench, weighing it in his hands.

Silently, the Vagabond approached, taking the wrench from him. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” Geoff asked.

“You clearly have no experience with this sort of thing. So I’ll do it.”

Geoff gaped at him. “I don’t… I can’t ask you to do that.”

The Vagabond shook his head. “You’re not asking me. I’m telling _you_ – I’ll do it. This is hardly my first rodeo.”

They watched as the Vagabond set the wrench down, moving instead to pick up a red jerry can and a white rag from the table.

“How about we start with something a little less… bloody,” his said forcefully, striding towards Grant.

“What? No, please… you can’t do this! I’m an American citizen! I have rights!”

“Not here you don’t,” the Vagabond replied in a growl. He stepped forward, slamming a kick into Grant’s chair, knocking it over. “Who are you working for? Who told you to look for the files?”

“No one! It was an accident! I swear!”

“Wrong answer,” the Vagabond said roughly, shoving the rag onto Grant’s face.

“No, please!” Grant begged, shaking his head. “You can’t! I’ll drown.”

Jack turned away. Geoff wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Behind them, she could hear the horrible, rough splashing sound of the Vagabond waterboarding Grant.

He finally let up after almost a minute. Grant coughed and sputtered, choking for air.

“Give me a name, and I won’t have to do it again,” the Vagabond intoned.

“I don’t have a proper name! I promise! He never gave me his real one! He j-just told me to call him “Lucky”.” Grant cried.

“So how did this “Lucky” get in contact with you?” the Vagabond asked, circling Grant rather menacingly.

“He c-called me in the dead of night on my home phone! I don’t know how or why he chose me, but he told me he had a favor to ask of me, and that if I did him this favor, he could make me a very rich man. If I didn’t, he said he would h-hurt me! Me and my family!”

“What was the favor?”

“The files. He gave me the name of another FIB agent, Michael Burns, and told me I needed to get to some files in his office. He said I needed to do it fast, because there was another agent sniffing around.”

“Paddington?” the Vagabond asked.

Grant nodded vigorously. “Yes! He said he wanted the files too, so if I was going to do it, I needed to decide right then and there! He knew my kids’ names, what school they go to. He knew the hospital my wife goes to for chemo, and the name of her doctor! He knew everything! I didn’t have a choice!”

“So you broke into Burnie’s office and took my file,” Geoff spoke up, stepping forward. “What then?”

“He asked me to meet him. So… I met with him and handed over the files! He told me he would transfer my payment into my account in a few days! But the next day I got taken in by Paddington on my way to work! He had Burnie’s office bugged and knew I was the one rooting around in there. And then the IAA kidnapped me from Paddington’s team! But I didn’t tell any of them a thing, I swear! I knew Lucky would never transfer my money if I talked!”

“Think he’s telling the truth?” Jack asked Geoff.

“No idea,” Geoff said with a shrug. “I’d imagine it’d be pretty hard to lie with that scary asshole staring you down, though.”

The Vagabond ignored them. “You said you met with this Lucky. Where?”

“H-he lives in a beach house on Chumash! But when we met he w-wore a mask! I couldn’t see his face. Please, t-that’s all I know, I promise!”

“Geoff?” the Vagabond asked, looking up. “Why don’t you investigate Mr. Grant’s claims?”

“What! No! You can’t! He’ll kill you and me for snitching! You’re insane!” Grant protested, voice shaking with panic.

“Shut up,” the Vagabond growled, kicking at his chair. “Geoff, take my rifle, it’s in the bottom my bag. I’ll try to get more information on this asshole here. If we can get an ID on this Lucky character, you can take him out.”

Geoff sighed. “Jesus Christ. What about Jack?”

“I’ll stay here,” Jack replied. “I can relay what’s going on to you both with the comms.”

Nodding, Geoff rummaged through the Vagabond’s bag, drawing out his sniper. “Guess I’m fucking off then.”

“Stay safe,” Jack replied, watching him go.

“Yeah,” Geoff said softly, pushing open the door. “You too.”

 

* * *

 

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, dying the tranquil sea a dazzling watermelon pink. The beach houses of Chumash were slate blue against the sunset, warm golden lights glittering from within. Geoff had made his way up the steep hillside that edged the road opposite the line of houses. Ducking behind some scrub brush, he unpacked the Vagabond’s sniper rifle, training his sights on the house address Grant had given them.

“Fuck me,” Geoff growled into the comms. “There’s a goddamn party going on in there!”

Looking through the scope, Geoff could see dozens of people milling about the property. The partygoers were everywhere - smoking on the balcony, chatting on the front stoop, drinking on the side patio.

“There’s always a fucking party going on in Chumash, this time of year,” Jack replied. “Seems a bit weird that there’s one going on at this Lucky dude’s house right now though.”

“Yeah. Ask Grant about it. See if you can get a description of our target too. Anything, height, build, whatever.”

Geoff listened as Jack relayed his requests to Grant and the Vagabond. There was a brief silence, than the sounds of muffled sobbing.

“Back at the fucking waterboarding again?” Geoff asked.

“No,” Jack replied. “He got a wrench out. Just broke one of the guy’s fingers. Oh. Two of the guy’s fingers. Hold on.”

Geoff sighed. He was glad he wasn’t the one doing the torturing, but it still felt pretty damn shitty to have someone else torture a guy on his behalf. Even if the Vagabond was supposedly experienced at it, he couldn’t imagine it as something anyone but the most twisted of individuals would find enjoyable.

And startlingly, the Vagabond didn’t seem the type.

“Alright. New information,” Jack spoke into the comms. “Grant is saying that there was a party going on when he went to the house the first time. A fucking masquerade or something. That’s why Lucky was masked. Apparently guy likes to party. As for description, average height, average build, dark hair. Wore a suit.”

“Shit,” Geoff swore. “Why the fuck didn’t he say anything before?”

“Apparently he was scared we would try to make him help us hunt down everyone that was at the party.”

“Well tell him as long as this Lucky fellow didn’t share the files with anyone else, then we won’t have to!” Geoff replied.

He waited as Jack relayed the message.

“He said he’s sure Lucky didn’t share the files. Wait. What?” Jack called. Geoff could hear the Vagabond talking to her in the background. “Hold on, the Vagabond wants to talk to you.”

Geoff waited as Jack passed the comms over.

“So, there’s no way Grant handed over the files, at least not all of them at once,” the Vagabond said quietly. “Those files were his leverage, if he would have handed them over to Lucky right away there’d be no guarantee that Lucky would follow through with his end of the bargain.

Geoff nodded, considering. “Fuck. You might be right. He needed that money. He’s got kids to put through college, a sick wife who needs treatment. FIB doesn’t pay as well as it used to. Shit… I hate saying this but… see if you can get it out of him.”

“On it,” the Vagabond replied shortly. “I’ll give you back to Jack.”

“Pretty clever guy, that Vagabond,” Jack said over the cacophony of crying behind her. “Clever and terrifying.”

“Yikes,” Geoff said, wincing in sympathy. “You doing okay?”

“Oh yeah, all sunshine and rainbows over here in the goddamn torture dungeon,” Jack replied dryly.

“Jack…”

“It’s fine,” she said, voice clipped. “Hey, looks like we may have got something here, just a second.”

Geoff slumped back down into the dirt, resisting the temptation to just close his eyes and fucking _rest_ for a minute.

“Sounds like the Vagabond’s hunch was right. Grant memorized the files and gave Lucky a brief description of their contents during their meeting. He told Lucky he’d give him the coordinates of the place he hid the files once he transferred his payment. Lucky sent him half. He claims he never got the chance to give him the coordinates before he was taken in by Paddington.”

“Well, shit. If the files are still around… damn, we need to get those fucking coordinates then.” Geoff said with a sigh.

“One thing at a time,” Jack replied. “Let’s focus on getting this shit over and done with first, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Geoff growled. “Either fucking way, this Lucky fucker still gots to go though, huh?”

“Uh-huh. He still knows what’s in the files, even if he didn’t read them in person.”

“Alright, well I need something more to fucking going on here. I’m not about to start shooting up the place.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack replied. “The Vagabond’s working on it.”

“Well tell him not to work too fucking hard. Grant wont give us fucking shit if he’s dead.”

Jack snorted. “I’ll be sure to pass that on. In the meantime, look around, see if you spot anyone that looks like they’re the host of the party.”

Geoff turned his eye back to the scope. As the sky darkened to bruise-purple above him, the lights inside made it easier to peer through the windows of the house. He spotted a couple of dudes in suits who fit Grant’s description, but he wasn’t to start taking people out without more information.

“I got a couple a guys who could be this Lucky dude,” Geoff said into the comms. “But I need to narrow it down. What else you got?”

“Ahhh, goddammit,” jack hissed suddenly.

“What?”

“Uhh, nothing… just, Mr. Grant may be short a few teeth now. And I don’t have much else. He’s a smoker? Probably a leftie. Stubble and a tan.”

“Jesus Christ,” Geoff exhaled, moving from each of the possible targets. He spotted two guys who fit the bill. “I got two dudes here who might be our guy - one smoking a cigarette with his right hand, the other with his left.”

“Okay. Is Grant sure about the leftie thing?” Jack called to the Vagabond.

Geoff listened, hearing a pained scream coming from the other end.

“He’s sure,” Jack replied, sounding pained herself. “He says he wore a watch too, gold, on his right hand.”

Geoff checked the guy’s right hand; his watch was gold, just as Jack had said.

“Alright. I think this is our guy. Matches every description. We a go on taking him out?”

“That’s your call, Geoff, not mine,” Jack replied.

Geoff moved his reticle over the target’s head.

He still had a lot of fucking questions. Who the fuck was this Lucky character, really? Why was he interested in him? How did he even know about the existence of the files in the first place?

In this case, Geoff figured it was better to shoot first an ask questions later. He could get Ray and Gus to do a little digging.

Lucky was too much of risk to keep alive – to both him, the crew, the FIB and even fucking Dragovic.

Plus, Geoff had a hell of a lot to lose now, Jack, Gus, Gavin, Ray, the whole goddamned crew… he didn’t want to put their lives in danger because of his fuck-ups from the past anymore.

It was time to end this.

He pulled the trigger.

“Got em,” he said into the comms as Lucky fell back, a bullet lodged in his brain.

“Good. Get out of there,” Jack said quietly. “The Vagabond got the coordinates for the files from Grant, he’s off to see if they check out.”

“Uhh, you sent the Vagabond to dig up my private government files… _alone_?” Geoff asked in confusion as he packed up his rifle.

“Sorry,” Jack replied. “I’d have gone myself, but I’m… kinda fucking beat, here, you know?”

“It’s fine. The guy knows all my fucking secrets, already. I guess it doesn’t matter. Stick with Grant until we get back… then we’ll… deal with him, I guess.”

“Sure thing. And Geoff?” she asked, voice suddenly sounding apprehensive. “When all of this is cleared up… I think we should… _talk_.”

Geoff drew in a breath, his heart beating in his throat.

“Yeah,” he replied finally. “I think so too.”

 

* * *

 

Geoff’s files weren’t the only piece of the past that needed digging up. Jack felt a little bad about deceiving the Vagabond, and a lot bad about deceiving Geoff, but it needed to be done.

Once she cut the commlink with Geoff and after the Vagabond had ridden off on his bike, Jack made her move.

She freed Grant, dragging him out of the warehouse. He limped along, crying and pleading with her.

“You got two choices here,” she said, pulling out her pistol and aiming it squarely at his skull. “You can come with me to the airport, get on a plane, get out of LS and never look back… or I can put two bullets in your head and be done with you. Your call.”

“What?” Grant whimpered, bruised, battered and broken. “B-but my family. I-I can’t leave them!”

“Like I said,” she replied coldly, squaring her shoulders. “Two choices. Your family thinks your fucking dead already, remember? So I think you can handle getting on a fucking plane… unless you want to be dead for real.”

“O-okay! Okay… I’ll go…please, I just want to live.”

“You will if you keep your mouth shut. You can’t ever come back here, you understand? If word gets out that your alive and kicking then I’ll come for your wife, your kids, your whole fucking family… and then I’ll come for you, _understand_?” she snarled.

He nodded forcefully. “I understand. _Please_.”

“Good. Get in the truck.”

She herded Grant into her truck with her gun before hopping in herself.

“Sorry Geoff,” she muttered under her breath before starting the engine.

 

* * *

 

“Where the fuck is she?” Geoff asked again, pacing the warehouse.

“I don’t know,” the Vagabond replied glancing around. “She was gone when I got here. She must have taken Grant with her.”

“But why?” Geoff growled. “You got the files, I got Lucky, and we might finally be in the fucking clear here! Why would she fucking blow this for us!”

“I don’t know,” the Vagabond said again, sounding tired. “Why don’t you call her?”

“Oh, shit,” Geoff exclaimed. “Lemme see here.”

He punched Jack’s number into his phone, waiting.

Unsurprisingly, she didn’t pick up.

“FUCK!” he swore, resisting the urge to slam his phone onto the floor of the warehouse. “What the fuck was she thinking? What am I gonna do?”

“Does Jack have a Lifeinvader phone, by chance?” the Vagabond spoke up suddenly, pulling out his own phone.

“Uhh… yeah, think so. Why?”

“Just a second.”

Geoff watched impatiently as the Vagabond messed around with his phone for a few minutes.

“Here,” the Vagabond said finally, striding up to him. “Found her. Looks like she’s at the LS airport.”

“What? How the fuck?” Geoff asked, grabbing the Vagabond’s hand and pulling his phone into view. “What’s she doing there?”

“Probably what most people do at an airport, I would assume,” he replied, tugging his hand away. “I’d go now, if you want to catch her.”

“Holy shit. Okay, yeah. Thank you,” Geoff replied hurriedly, moving towards the door.

“Thank Ray, not me. I’ll clean things up here. You go.”

Geoff nodded. “ _Fuck,_ okay. Can you let the crew know what’s up? Or at least Ray or Gus. I’ll call once I know what’s going on with the Grant situation, but make sure word doesn’t get back to Dragovic just yet. Who the fuck knows how long I’ll be gone. Shit, that’s sort of a lot to ask, sorry…”

The Vagabond shook his head. “It’s fine, I got it all. _Seriously_. Go.”

“Okay, okay. I’m off.”

He pulled open the warehouse door.

“Goddammit, Jack,” he growled, stepping outside.

 

* * *

 

_“Listen, babe. We’re going to move to Los Santos. Start over. I made a deal. The slate will be totally wiped clean.”_

The drive to Achievement City from the airport in Austin was just one, long dark dusty road. Jack had a few hours head start on him. Geoff could only hope his hunch was right.

His mind was reeling. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to remember.

But sometimes it felt like the past was all that he had. And it was back with a vengeance.

“ _Trust me, look at me, hon… It was the only thing I could do. Either everyone dies, or one guy gets out. I’m… I’m that guy.”_

He shouldn’t have been that guy. It should have been, _could have been_ anyone else. Why did he get to live free when so many of his friends had been taken? When some had even died?

_“His name is Michael Burns, nice guy – realist. He gets the glory, I get out. It’s not even a decision. I don’t have a choice.”_

He had a choice, back then. He just didn’t know it. He could have stayed. He could have been loyal. He could have said, “fuck you” to the feds and spent the rest of his life rotting in a cell but still loyal to his crew. Loyal to Jack.

_“Do you wanna die poor and destitute out here in the middle of fucking nowhere? Or do you wanna go to the City of Saints, to Vinewood, to live in one of those big fucking McMansions you see on TV?”_

Geoff realized he hadn’t given his wife a real choice either.

_“I did the deal. It’s over. We got out, babe. We get to be normal! Be happy!”_

Nine years later and it still wasn’t over. And He was never gonna be normal, that was for sure. And he was _certainly_ never gonna be happy, not without…

_“Just one job, and everything is done.”_

Geoff pulled to a stop. Achievement City hadn’t grown all that much over the years. The cemetery just outside the city limits was still same, still and quiet – and now even more overgrown and forgotten now that some years had passed.

Geoff got out of the rental car. He approached the gate that bordered the cemetery and clambered over.

There were no stars in Los Santos, but out in the wild no man’s land outside of Achievement City Texas, stars grew in abundance, a billion little lights illuminating the dark velveteen sky.

Geoff wandered through the cemetery, searching for his grave.

In the distance corner, he spotted the glow of a lamplight, shining through the headstones.

He approached, reading his old name engraved in small, modest headstone.

He found her there, 3-feet deep into the 6-foot grave, a shovel in her hands, sleeves rolled up and hair plastered to her sweaty forehead.

“Jack,” he said softly, his voice barely a whisper.

She looked up. She hardly seemed surprised to see him.

“You’re here,” she said simply, continuing to dig.

“I am,” he answered. “You did a runner. What’d you expect? That I’d just call it a night, go home and hit the hay? Of course I’m fucking here.”

“I bought Grant a plane ticket. Sent him to Amsterdam. We won’t be seeing him again, I made sure of it.”

“I… fuck. I don’t even know what to say Jack. Do you know how much –“ he stopped short, watching her dig like a woman possessed was starting to unnerve him. “I’m not fucking _there_ , you know. I’m here. Alive. Talking to you.”

She stopped digging, breathing hard. “I _know_ that, Geoff. I… left something here. When you died. When I _thought_ you died. I… _needed_ to get it back, okay? It's been bugging me and... I got to the airport with Grant and, I don't know - it just seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“This thing was so important that it couldn’t fucking wait, I dunno a week, a few days, at least? Until we got all this other shit settled? We could have talked about the Grant thing you know; you didn’t have to go AWOL. You probably could have talked me into letting him live, too, if that’s what your upset about. I’m sure you know that. So why the fuck are you doing this now?”

Jack wiped her forehead, rubbing dirt across her face. “You don’t remember?”

“Remember what… oh.” He touched the place above his heart. “My necklace… you, you left it here?”

She nodded, staring down at her progress. “I left them both here. You told me to save it for you… and when you didn’t come back…”

She drew in a shaky breath, turning her head away from him.

“I dropped them in, right here. I saved your money too, you know? Never spent a dime of it. Buried it out in our old spot on the trails like you said. I’ll go back for that too, once I’m done here. Just like I promised.”

“God… Jack... I didn't think...  _Fuck,_ ” he whispered, voice catching. “I’m sorry.”

“Will… will you help me? I sort of… underestimated how much fucking work it was to dig up a goddamn grave.”

Geoff nodded. “Yeah... okay. Digging my own grave. Never thought I'd see the day. Got another shovel?”

“I broke into the groundskeepers shed down the way and stole mine, there’s a few more in there.”

He found another shovel and returned, stepping into the grave with Jack.

They started digging.

 

* * *

 

The horizon was beginning to light up to a pale, dusty blue by the time they finished. Jack sifted through the last of the dirt, bleary eyed and exhausted, finally digging out the twin necklaces she had dropped into the grave so long ago.

Even covered in dirt she could see that they were still intact.

Silently she slipped one over her neck, and the other over Geoff’s.

He stared at her, words lost.

Why was it so damn hard?

She kicked at the coffin below them. “So whose buried here,” she asked, finally.

That was an easier question to ask, at least.

“Dunno,” Geoff replied, glancing down. “FIB set it up. Some poor schmuck, probably.”

She nodded. “Your mom used to visit your grave all the time, before she left for Florida. Gus told me he kept track of her. I wrote to her, for a while, kept things vague and said I was just an old friend, but I think she knew who I was, in the end. Even sent her some money, as much as I could for as long as I could, until she passed.”

Geoff nodded. “I know. Gus told me about that too. Said you two had a nice talk after we fought the day Gavin got hurt. Things have been so shit lately that I haven’t gotten the chance to thank you for that. So, _thank you_. Really.”

He touched her shoulder, and she leaned into him.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do.”

“Did… did Gus tell you about the question he asked me?” Jack asked, not daring to look up at him.

“I… don’t think so, no. What question?”

She breathed in, heart beating heavy in her chest. “He asked me if I was in love with you.”

Geoff went still, breath catching in his throat.

“Oh,” he said softly. “And… what did you say?”

She huffed out a laugh. “Of course.”

“Of course?”

“I said, “ _Of course, I’m in love with that stupid, horrible idiot. Have been for almost half my goddamn life, thanks for asking_.” I’m paraphrasing a bit but that’s the gist of –”

She stopped. Because suddenly he was cupping her face in his hands and leaning in close and looking at her so goddamn earnestly that she kind of wanted to cry.

But instead of crying, Jack kissed him.

It didn’t matter if it wasn’t the first time. They had kissed playfully, jokingly, angrily and drunkenly, but none of those kisses could ever amount to this one.

This one was _real._

She titled her head, pressing her lips against his, grabbing his hair to pull him in close. They were both dirty and sweaty and tired and hungry and he was still pissed at her about the Grant thing, and she was still pissed at her about the Mica thing - but all that shit just faded away into nothing.

Because she was kissing Geoff, and he was kissing her back. _Fucking, finally._

She pulled away, resting her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his back. He laughed his stupid fucking laugh into her messy hair.

“Making out in a grave on top of a dead guy,” he said finally, voice hitching. “That’s gotta be ten years of bad luck right there.”

She snorted. “Maybe. I’ve kinda already had ten years of bad luck though.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod, pulling apart to look down at her, a dopey grin on his face. “Me fucking too.”

“So... fuck it, right?” she asked, grinning back. “What’s say we go for ten more?”

 

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! Thanks so much for reading, feel free to drop a comment if you get a chance, its great hearing from people! 
> 
> Chapter Title Song:  
> I'm Left, You're Right, She's Gone by Giorgio Moroder (GTA Liberty City Stories)


	15. Get Ready To Die

** The Devils You Know **

Part Three

The Wolf At The Door

Chapter Fifteen

Get Ready To Die

 

Today was the last day.

Mica was going to make sure of it.

Depending on how things turned out, it was either going to be her last day living under Dragovic’s thumb…

Or her last day living. _Period._

Dragovic had been extra strict with her recently, making her two bodyguards, Cecily and Twila, travel with her everywhere, watching her every move. He was already tracking her phone, monitoring and restricting her Internet usage – but now he was forcing her to stay with him in his ranch house rather than the house in Vinewood _and_ having her relentlessly followed from room to room.

It was fucking hell.

And Mica was sick of it.

Geoff and Jack knew she was in trouble. That much was obvious. They hadn’t made any moves to whisk her away and out of Dragovic’s clutches, but Mica didn’t want them too just yet, not without setting up her plan first. Asking for help had been the first step.

This was step two.

Geoff and Jack were seated in the living room, discussing the final details of the next job with Dragovic, a heist they were heading to later in the day. Mica was listening in from the kitchen, waiting.

“Your piano lesson starts in an hour,” Cecily spoke up, stepping over. “You’re not dressed.”

Mica glanced down at her outfit – a loose t-shirt and her favorite pair of comfy, well-worn jeans. She was dressed for her escape – not a stuffy piano lesson with a rich old snob who lived in the Hills.

“I’m still not feeling well, actually,” Mica lied, putting on her best grimace. She had faked getting sick from the crab they had eaten for dinner last night, making several trips to the bathroom, pretending to vomit.

Cecily frowned, but didn’t appear too concerned. “From the crab? _Still_? Why don’t you just take a nap on the couch before we go, then.”

“But I –” Mica protested, stopping short as her second bodyguard, Twila, stepped in.

Of the two guards, Twila was the more kinder and more sympathetic of the two, letting Mica get away with breaking just a few small rules with little more than a wink and a smile.

“What’s going on?” Twila asked, glancing between them.

“She still isn’t feeling well,” Cecily replied curtly.

“Bad crab,” Mica groaned. “Ughh.”

Twila moved forward, looking concerned. “Food poisoning? Should we call you a doctor? We can have one flown over in a jiff, you know.”

Dragovic had any number of doctors in LS in his pocket, and it seemed he could summon them with a mere snap of his fingers.

Mica shook her head. “I think I’m gonna be sick again.”

She leaned forward, clutching her stomach. Though she was the furthest away, Cecily stepped back dramatically.

“Take her to the bathroom, then,” Cecily instructed Twila. She stepped out of the room, looking disgusted.

Twila took Mica around the shoulders, moving towards the bathroom near the front of the house.

“No,” Mica moaned. “You can’t take me to that bathroom! We’ll bother his guests! Plus, they’ll hear me like… puking and stuff.”

Twila looked conflicted. The other bathroom in the house was Dragovic’s master bathroom.

“Please,” Mica pleaded. “He’s been kinda grumpy with me lately and this meeting is so important to him – I don’t want to be an embarrassment.”

Twila sighed. “Alright. Make it quick though.”

Mica tried not to smile in triumph as Twila led her to the back of the house.

“Five minutes,” Twila warned, stopping in front of Dragovic’s bedroom. “And then I’m coming in to get you.”

Mica nodded before slipping into the bedroom. She was so rarely able to catch a glimpse of the inside of Dragovic’s room. Glancing around, the décor definitely suited his personality with the black, elegant but masculine modern furniture, rich burgundy walls and dark wood floors. The only thing that looked even remotely inviting in the room was the king sized bed covered in a quilted silk comforter and a myriad of fluffy pillows.

As curious as she was, Mica couldn’t allow herself to dawdle. She stepped into the en suite bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Time to get to work.

Mica pulled her phone out of her pocket, pulling up a recording she had made of herself fake-vomiting the other day.

She played the rather disgusting sounds at full volume; hopefully it would be enough to cover the noise of her rooting around in the bathroom.

Pulling open the medicine cabinet, she grabbed the Tupperware bin full of various pill bottles and assorted drugs, some prescription, some not. She was looking for some sort of eye drop solution that she had seen Dragovic use for his glaucoma numerous times before. All she knew that it was a clear liquid that that came in a very tiny, unmarked vial.

She pushed the pills around, heart thundering in her chest. She could only play the sounds of herself vomiting for so long before Twila was going to consider it some sort of medical emergency.

No luck.

She put the Tupperware full of pill bottles back into the cabinet, grabbing another, smaller container than looked like it was full of creams, cough syrups and other liquid medicines. She began hurriedly sorting through it all.

“Mica?” called Twila’s voice from outside. “You doing alright in there?”

_Shit._

Mica almost answered before realizing the recording was still playing -definitely not a good idea to sound like she was somehow speaking while puking at the same time. She scrambled for her phone, pressing pause.

“Fine!” she croaked out. “Just gimme a minute!”

“You’ve been puking your guts out in there,” Twila said, her voice now coming from just outside the door. “Open up?”

 _Fuck._ She needed more time.

“Nooo,” Mica said with a groan. “I’m all gross, just gimme a sec to get cleaned up.”

“Mica, you’re kinda freaking me out, here! Open the door!”

Mica grabbed at one of the bottles of medicine. Pepto Bismal.

_Perfect._

She unscrewed the cap.

“Seriously,” Twila hissed, panic in her voice. “Open the door in three seconds or I’ll have to go and get Mr. Dragovic.”

Mica flipped the lock and the door swung open.

“Oh God,” Twila sighed, stepping inside and glancing around. “What happened?”

Mica was kneeling on the bathroom floor, scrubbing away at the tiles where she had rather unceremoniously dumped the entire contents of the bottle of Pepto Bismal.

Dragovic’s pristinely clean bathroom was now awash with the bright, bubblegum pink liquid.

“Sorry,” Mica said ruefully. “I was looking for something to take for my stomach. But the cap was a little loose and I spilled it. I gotta clean this up quick or he’ll be so mad!”

“Don’t bother, I’ll take care of it. Just head into the kitchen, Dragovic wants you to make tea for everyone.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Twila said with a weary sigh, kneeling down and taking the washcloth from Mica’s hands. “Just go.”

Mica stepped out into Dragovic’s bedroom. She clenched her fists, trying to keep tears of frustration from welling up. She was so damn _close_.

She couldn’t give up.

Not yet.

Tiptoeing quietly out of Twila’s sightline from the bathroom, Mica began looking around the room. Her eyes landed on Dragovic’s nightstand, where a small black box sat, catching her attention.

Mica crept over, as quickly and quietly as she could manage. The box was made of wood and wasn’t particularly unique, save for the Chinese characters that decorated the top. Delicately and with baited breath she lifted the lid.

There they were.

The box was filled with little plastic vials lined up in neat little slots. Mica grabbed three, just in case, and shut the lid of the box, glancing behind her to ensure Twila was still inside, cleaning away. She carefully tucked the little vials into the smallest pocket of her jeans.

Step Two was done. Now on to Step Three.

Before she could move out of the room, something else on Dragovic’s nightstand caught her eye. There was something tucked into the pages of _No Country For Old Men_ , the book Dragovic had been reading recently. Mica stepped back over, pulling out the piece of paper he had apparently been using as a bookmark.

It wasn’t a piece of paper. It was a rather strange photo - a little faded, and the edges crinkled and worn down, as if it had been held and looked at many, many times over the years.

It was a photo of a much younger Dragovic, hair closer to black than grey, skin less pale and papery, eyes a little more… alive. He was dressed in an elegant black tux and there looked to be some sort of fancy party going on in the background. Though it wasn’t Dragovic or the party that was strange in the picture.

The strange thing was the young man, no older than 14 or 15 years old, standing rather stiffly and solemnly next to Dragovic. He wore a similar neat, black tux, his blond hair combed back. There was something eerily familiar about the young man… but Mica couldn’t quite place his face. It was his eyes that stood out the most – bright blue and almost… defiant, _angry_ even.

Dragovic had his arm around the young man’s shoulders, and he was smiling in a way that Mica had never seen before.

She had seen Dragovic smile politely, menacingly, cruelly, and mockingly… but this smile was something different.

He seemed rather… fond, or maybe proud.

Mica flipped the photo over to check the back.

There, in Dragovic’s neat, orderly cursive, was a simple note.

_James,_

_Don’t Forget_

_Leviticus 20:9_

Mica didn’t know who “James” was and she wasn’t really familiar with her bible verses… but she felt compelled to keep the photo, slipping it into the pocket of her hoodie. Something in the young man’s face was haunting her in some way strange, unexplainable way.

Quietly, Mica slipped out the Dragovic’s bedroom and down the hall towards the kitchen. Cecily was leaning up against the doorframe, waiting.

“Feeling better?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Mica nodded. “A little. Should I make tea?”

“Please. When I make it always comes out too bitter. Green tea for the guests. Earl grey for Mr. Dragovic,” Cecily replied curtly. “And I’d hop to it if I were you.”

Moving into the kitchen, Mica flipped one of the burners on the stove on and pulled the teakettle from the cupboard.

She waited for Cecily pull out her phone to play with while she waited. Once the bodyguard turned away, Mica got to work. She slipped one of the vials out of her pocket and quickly uncapped it, pouring the eye drop solution down the drain of the sink. After rinsing and drying the vial Mica pulled a tiny, rolled up slip of paper out of her other pocket. After glancing Cecily’s way to make sure she wasn’t looking, Mica slid the roll of paper into the vial before recapping it.

Mica drew in a deep breath, staring down at her work.

This was her SOS, her distress signal.

Her little message in a bottle.

Now it was time to send it on its way.

Mica swiftly finished making the tea. She dropped the tiny vial containing her note into one of the cups of green tea. After setting each of the mugs on a tray, she picked it up and moved cautiously into the living room.

“Ah, there you are Mica,” Dragovic announced once he spotted her. “And you’ve brought tea, how kind of you. Why don’t you serve our guests first?”

No matter how innocuous his words were, Dragovic somehow managed to never sound the least bit genuine.

“Sure thing,” Mica replied, trying to smile. She moved over to the side of the couch, where Geoff and Jack were sitting.

They were both watching her carefully. Mica passed a cup of the tea along to Geoff, then as casually as she could, she handed over the cup containing the note to Jack.

She could only hope that the other woman would notice the message swimming in the tea before Dragovic did, and that she would be smart enough to hide it.

Mica tried to give Jack a subtle but significant look. Accepting the tea, Jack merely smiled at her and murmured a “thank you” before turning back to say something to Geoff.

After receiving his cup from her, Dragovic looked back toward Geoff.

“I’m so glad Mica was able to get your wallet back to you the other day,” Dragovic announced suddenly, causing Geoff and Jack so startle a little as they glanced up.

 _Fuck._ Why was Dragovic bringing up the damn wallet?

Not a good sign.

Mica breathed in evenly, trying to keep her face blank and casual. Even so, she couldn’t help but edge behind Dragovic’s armchair a little, hoping to get out of his line of site.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks again, by the way. I-” he stopped short, pausing to glance up at Mica’s face.

He must have seen something… off in her expression. He stumbled over his words for a moment before continuing on.

“I – uh… Luckily it was my… spare wallet, so no important credit cards or anything. Still, gotta get better at that though. I’d lose my head if it weren’t attached to my shoulders!”

Why did he have to sound so goddamn nervous?

“Spare wallet?” Dragovic asked.

“Yeah,” Geoff replied, nodding firmly. “In this job, you can never be too careful. I got a million IDs and credit cards to keep track of, all with different names. I like to keep a couple on me at a time, in case I need to swap identities in jiffy, you know?”

After a long pause, Dragovic finally nodded, either satisfied enough with Geoff’s answer or unwilling to press it further… yet.

“Sensible,” he said drolly. “Mica, you can go now, my dear. Thank you for the tea.”

Mica nodded, smiling politely at him before retreating into the kitchen area. She was in the clear, for the time being. But she didn’t want to stick around long enough to face Dragovic’s inevitable interrogation about the wallet. At least Geoff had been clever enough to cover for her.

Cecily was still in the kitchen, messing with her phone. She glanced up when Mica entered the room again, eyebrows furrowed.

“You do look a bit peaky,” Cecily said as Mica moved over to the fridge. “You better have that lie down. I can tell Mr. Dragovic I’ve rescheduled the piano lesson.”

Mica nodded gratefully. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and began to fill it up with water.

“Thanks Cec, I’m just gonna have a glass of water. I think I’ll take a nap once everyone’s left, if that’s okay?”

“Fine by me,” Cecily replied, eyes moving back to her phone.

From her spot standing near the fridge, Mica could use the mirror in the hallway to catch a glimpse of what was going on around the corner in the living room. She could just barely see a bit of Jack’s profile, her wild red hair taking up most of the reflection.

Mica watched as she sipped at her tea. Before long, she saw Jack stop short of her next sip, glancing down just a little.

_Please, please, please, please._

Holding her breath and her heart thundering away in her chest, Mica waited.

Finally, Jack seemed to make a decision. Mica watched as she downed the rest of her tea and set her cup down on the tray. A few minutes later Jack turned her head to discreetly clear her throat, her hand against her mouth.

_Oh God. Please work._

Mica turned away. The ball was in Jack’s court now. She just had to be patient.

When Mica returned to the living room to collect the empty teacups, Jack caught her wrist in her hand while Dragovic and Geoff were discussing something.

Mica looked down, startled, but Jack smiled warmly at her. “Thank you for the tea. It was delicious.”

“You’re welcome,” Mica replied softly.

When Jack pulled her hand away, Mica could see she had the vial hidden in her palm. Jack moved her hand to the breast pocket of her shirt, discreetly slipping the vial inside, before turning back to Dragovic.

Message received.

Mica padded away, trying not to sigh audibly in relief.

Now, to wait.

 

* * *

 

Robert Belding had worked for the private security company Gruppe 6 for the better part of 15 years. He had spent those years grinding away at the time until he could retire - fat and happy on orange grove in Valencia with his second wife Anna Marie.

Over the years he figured he had worked six days a week, 49 weeks out of a year. That was a total of 48 work hours a week, 2,352 work hours in a year and 35,280 work hours within the span of his decade and a half of dedicated service.

And in those 35,280 hours of driving his Gruppe 6 Stockade throughout the whole of San Andreas, Robert Belding had never, _ever_ seen anything like this.

It had begun the same as any other day. He was heading into LS, transporting nearly 2 million dollars in bearer bonds seized by the IAA from a mob operation in Las Venturas. The new guy, Connor, was sitting in the front seat, learning the ropes. Juan and Liz, old veterans like him, were in the back of the truck, guarding the bonds.

He had never had any trouble on a run before. He knew other drivers who had, Los Santos was crawling with criminals, after all, but Robert Belding had never had a single incident occur that was more dire than a pigeon hitting the windshield, or blowing a tire on the interchange on Route 18.

Today, that 15 year incident-free streak was broken.

He took the truck through Cypress Flats, just like he always did. The quiet, industrial neighborhood was nearly dead this time of day, making it a fairly safe place to drive a vehicle carrying 2 million dollars worth of bonds without issue.

Robert turned the Stockade onto Orchardville Ave. The roads here were under-used and poorly paved. A trash bag went skittering across the street, blown by a stray breeze.

“Hey…what’s that?” Connor spoke up from the passenger’s seat, looking ahead.

Down the street, Robert spotted a garbage truck pulled across both lanes of the road, blocking off the alley.

“Huh,” Robert huffed. “Did public works change their schedule?”

“Is it weird that they’re here?” Connor asked, leaning forward, all youth and eagerness.

“At this time of day it is.”

“Oh. So should we hit the button?”

Robert sighed, pulling to a stop behind the garbage truck. He turned to Connor. “Listen kid, I’ve been working this job for 15 years. One of the first things you learn is that the button is _only for emergencies_. If you panic and hit it every time you get a little nervous or spot a guy that looks a little shady, you’ll never make it anywhere without battalion of NOOSE bastards showing up to ruin your day and make you fill out a helluva lotta paperwork. So _no_ … we’re not gonna hit the button. We’re gonna wait until they’re done and then we’re gonna –”

Robert stopped short - because just then, a tow truck appeared, rumbling down the road and pulling up behind him.

“Oh! Maybe they’re here for the garbage truck?” Connor asked, glancing in the rearview mirror. “It’s probably broken down in the middle of the road.”

“Could be,” Robert said quietly, drawing in a breath.

When the big white moving van drove in from the alley behind the parking lot besides them, Robert knew they were doomed.

“Hey there boys and girls,” a woman’s voice called from inside the moving van, pulling up along the right side of their truck. “I got some candy in the back of my van, if you’re interested!”

Robert and Collin turned, seeing two people in white hockey masks waving at them from the van – a woman with blonde and pink hair in the driver’s seat and a man with auburn curls poking out from behind his mask on the passenger’s side.

“If you don’t have a sweet tooth, our friend’s got some puppies in her truck you can play with,” the man said, laughing a little.

“ _Big puppies_ ,” the woman concurred.

“Fuck,” Robert swore.

He turned in time to see a pair of headlights glowing from the dim of the alley on his left. Then the lights were barreling towards him and he registered the sound of a semi truck horn blaring over and over again before the whole world was turned upside down.

Everything was smoke, and pain and blood in his eyes and glass in his face and someone was ripping him out of the van and onto the hard asphalt, shaking him like a ragdoll.

Robert drew in ragged breath after ragged breath. He lay there on the road, mind blank, stunned and reeling.

“Did you see that?”

Robert slowly looked up to see a woman climbing out of the semi truck that had crashed into them. She wore a Hawaiian shirt and the bottom half of a boiler suit – the top half tied off around her waist. Like the others, her face was covered in a white hockey mask.

“Fuck yeah I did! That was amazing!” called another voice, a man’s. “I could kiss you!”

“Please, not in front of the children!” the woman replied, laughing.

_Laughing._

They were laughing and he was fucking lying there on the street – bruised and broken and bleeding out.

Robert groaned a little, and the curly haired man who had pulled him out of the wreckage kicked him a little.

“This one’s still breathing! Other guy is alive but unconscious!”

Connor was alive. But Juan and Liz…

“Wrangle the hostages and blow the back. We wanna be out of here before the heat arrives!”

He felt himself being scooped up beneath the armpits before being dumped unceremoniously on the ground once again. He turned his head, resting his cheek on the ground. Connor was stirring beside him, blood trickling out of the side of his head.

The sound of an explosion echoed through the air, the earth shook beneath him. He turned to see Juan and Liz being torn out of the smoking and blown out back of Gruppe 6 van by more of the masked monsters.

Robert and Connor were brought to kneel beside Juan and Liz. Their eyes were wide and empty, blood streaming from their nose and ears, their skin and clothes covered in smoke and grease.

The world went quiet.

Robert had never seen anything like this. Six people in boilers suits and hockey masks surrounded the group, pointing heavy carbine rifles and SMGs at them. The band of robbers stared coldly down at them, as if they were ants waiting to be stepped on.

One of the masked men moved forward. Robert guessed he was the leader, from the way the others backed away to let him speak. He could see messy black hair over top of his mask, and tattoos poking out of the sleeves of the boiler suit pulled down over his hands.

“It’s nothing personal,” the guy said. “We aren’t here for you. Just the load you’re carrying. So no dumb shit. No heroes. Stay still and do as your told and we all get to go home to our beds, alright?”

Robert could scarcely nod. Connor was conscious now, letting out short, panicked breaths. Juan and Liz were still shell-shocked and deaf from the blast to the back of the truck.

Two of the masked robbers moved into the back of the truck, gathering the bonds. Before they could make their way back outside, Connor bolted upright suddenly, head butting past the woman guarding him towards the alleyway.

Robert wanted to scream, to shout at him to get down, to stop, but his throat was dry and raw and filled with smoke and everything just happened too damn fast.

Connor only got about 15 feet before he fell roughly to the ground, groaning and whimpering in pain, clutching at his leg.

Two of the robbers went over to Connor, grabbing him roughly and dragging him back over to the rest of the group.

“Forgot to mention,” said the leader, all nonchalance. “We got eyes in the sky.”

The leader pointed up to the rooftops on either side of the street. Robert glanced up, seeing two snipers in the same hockey masks staring down at them. One of them gave a jolly wave. The other stared at him silently through the end of his scope.

“So…no more runners, capiche?” the boss growled with a note of finality.

The two robbers emerged from the back of the truck, carrying the seized bonds with them.

“Got ‘em all,” said, the shorter, stockier man. “Should we get out of here?”

One of the other women in the group spoke up. “Gav… uh… G texted, the getaway is ready and waiting.”

The boss nodded, stepping forward. “So, that just leaves you little assholes.”

Beside him, Juan had started to sob. Liz was pleading over and over in a hushed voice, and Connor was slumped down, letting out small, pained moans.

“N-no one has to die here today. Y-you don’t have to kill us,” Robert pleaded, voice hoarse and crackling.

“Don’t I now?” the boss asked.

“We didn’t see your faces. Y-you can just go. Get out while you can. NOOSE will be swarming this place in a matter of minutes. You won’t get out alive.”

The boss hummed thoughtfully, as if considering.

“P-please. We don’t know you. Don’t know where you came from, who you are… you don’t have to kill us!” he cried again, voice hitching.

“You know what little guy? You’re right. You don’t know who we are,” the boss said almost… cheerfully.

“I mean, we wore these masks for a reason,” the woman with blonde hair spoke up.

“So if you can’t make us,” the curly haired man said. “I guess there’s no real reason to kill you.”

The woman with the Hawaiian shirt on under her boiler suit moved forward, seizing Robert by the collar.

“But get this – you or any of your little compatriots get too mouthy, get to friendly with the cops, or give them information we don’t like – we _will_ end you.”

“ _Painfully_ ,” the curly haired man growled, swinging his gun towards them rather menacingly.

Robert found himself nodding frantically. “L-like I said. Can’t talk about what you don’t know. I don’t know anything and I definitely don’t know you.”

The boss laughed. “You don’t. But you will. _Soon_.”

With that, Robert watched him turn and walk away - wrapping his arms around the shoulders of the tall woman in the Hawaiian shirt and the curly-haired man. The rest of the crew trailed after him, disappearing out of sight and down the alley. Up above, the two snipers observed the bruised, bloody group, silent and still, until they too vanished into thin air.

Less than a minute later, police sirens finally began ringing out from within the city.

 

* * *

 

“A Gruppe Sechs armored car being used by the IAA to transport bonds was raided this morning by as of yet unknown group of assailants armed with guns and explosives. The perpetrators wore hockey masks and boiler suits that made it difficult for the victims to identify any defining characteristics. Three out of the four victims of the attack have been hospitalized. The fourth was treated at the scene. Many questions yet remain. With the recent IAA “training exercise” causing a stir in the city, many are wondering if the two incidents are connected. We go to Malcolm Forthright for more on the story.”

“Made the news again!” Jeremy shouted into the kitchen, where the crew was tearing apart several pizzas and a case of beers.

“Sweet, lemme see,” Michael exclaimed, sliding into the living room, beer in hand. He flopped over on the couch besides Jeremy, grabbing at the remote.

“Turn that shit up!” Ray hollered at them, and Michael moved to increase the volume.

"Thank you, Malinda. Several days ago eye witnesses believed they had just seen the crime of the century - an audacious raid on the IAA Headquarters in Downtown Los Santos, in which a man was snatched from an office by a suspect hanging from a helicopter before both escaped. Before this morning’s attacks, officials were quick to counter these rumors. Agency spokeswoman Lucinda Klein told reporters the incident was merely a training exercise, and nothing to be concerned by. " _We are constantly training and yesterday was no exception. An agent posing as a terror suspect was snatched in a practice raid to see how our systems and processes respond to extreme duress. Despite problems with our funding, people should be relieved to know our systems worked great. You're in safe hands_ ," Klein was quoted as saying.”

“Ha!” Ray exclaimed through mouthfuls of pizza. “Let’s see her try to talk her way out of this one.”

“Scoot over Micoo,” Gavin whined, clambering over the top of the couch to sit between Michael and Jeremy, a plate of pizza balanced precariously in his hands.

“Stop it Gavin!” Michael growled as Gavin grabbed his shoulders to steady himself. “God you are a fucking animal. Sit down before you hurt yourself.”

“Ooff,” Gavin sighed, sitting down. He held out his plate to Jeremy and Michael. “Pizza?”

Jeremy grabbed a slice, eyes still glued to the TV. “Thanks dude.”

Michael stole a slice for himself and shoved Gavin lightly on the shoulder. “Now shut up, I wanna hear this.”

The others trailed in, standing behind the couch to watch the broadcast.

“When asked if there was any correlation between the two IAA-related incidents, Klein denied the connection. “ _While the armored car that was attacked was en route to our IAA headquarters, it has no connection to the training exercise that occurred several days ago_ ,” Klein stated.”

“Ha!” Geoff cried, taking a swig from his beer. “Still with the training exercise bullshit? Why admit to one and deny the other?”

“Cause they know people won’t buy that same old bullshit again,” Jack replied.

“So they’re lying out their asses,” Geoff scoffed. “Typical.”

“Shh!” Michael hushed them, waving his hands.

“The only thing we can confirm today is that the car was carrying high value government bonds. But Klein was unable to tell how much was stolen or whether or not the agency has had any success in identifying the group responsible. We will update you more as this story unfolds. Back to you, Malinda."

“Alright, alright, enough TV,” Geoff said, clapping his hands together. “You’ll rot your brains.”

Jeremy pulled the remote out of Michael’s grip, flipping the television off. Geoff was looking around his living room. Taking in the crew after the morning’s heist.

Michael, Gavin and Jeremy were crowded together on the couch. Lindsay was curled up in the recliner in the corner, with Kerry perched armrest. Ray was leaning up against the wall outside the entry to the kitchen. Even Gus and the Vagabond were there, talking quietly in the corner. They had all be trying to convince him to have a slice of pizza earlier, to no avail.

It felt good to have a truly successful heist under their belts. The last two had each had their own share of hitches and hiccups – but this one had gone astonishingly smoothly. Even if they had to split the bonds they had stolen from the IAA with both Dragovic and Biff Paddington, who had given them the tip about the armored van, it still felt like a pretty big fucking win.

“So!” Geoff began, stepping out from behind the couch. “I gotta few things I wanna discuss before I kick you merry assholes out of my house.”

“Dude!” Ray called to him. “Speech!”

“Speech, speech, speech!” Michael, Lindsay and Gavin chanted along, pounding their fists on their knees and laughing mischievously.

“Shuuut up,” Geoff groaned, flipping them the bird. “Why on earth do I put up with you little twerps?”

Finally, everyone quieted down, waiting.

“First things first - we did… really fucking good today. Hell, I’d say we’ve been doing pretty fucking good for the last couple of weeks, all things considered. You guys have really pulled it together. And cause of that, we got ourselves a decent fucking take. Gus’ll be handling the financials, so he’ll get everyone their cuts once everything has settled a bit, right Gus?”

Geoff nodded towards Gus and he nodded back. “That’s right. It’ll take some time to sell off the bonds. So be patient and don’t get grabby.”

Geoff snorted. “Thanks buddy. Secondly, thanks for pitching in and running the show while Jack and were… sorting shit out in Texas.”

“So did you guys kiss and make up already or what?” Michael asked, blunt as ever.

“ _Dude_ ,” Jeremy chastised.

“So are you guys fucking now or what?” Ray asked.

“Ray!” Kerry cried. “None of your business!”

Ray shrugged. “What? I’m just curious!”

Jack scoffed. “You kiss your mother with that mouth, huh Ray?”

“Nah, but I kissed yours.”

“Ayoooo!” Lindsay, Michael and Gavin cried together. Michael leaned across the couch to give Ray a high five.

“Jesus Christ,” Geoff said, slapping his hand on his forehead. “Alright, settle down. Last thing on the agenda we need to discuss is Dragovic. Along with this last heist plus all the cars we’ve boosted and the hits we’ve done for him, I think its safe to say we’ve worked our way back into his good graces. And now that we don’t have the FIB or the IAA to worry about anymore, it’s time to start planning on how we take him out. We’ll help Mica too once Dragovic is dead and in the ground. I think we’ve made our friend the Vagabond wait long enough.”

The Vagabond looked up suddenly, as if somewhat startled. Almost everyone turned to stare at him. He stared passively back, remaining silent.

“So once the heat dies down from the heist, we’re gonna start setting this up. And I’m gonna let the Vagabond take charge and call the shots on how we do the hit – no arguments,” Geoff said firmly.

“You don’t have to do that,” the Vagabond replied. “You’re the leader.”

“I know,” Geoff said. “But I’m not a hit man. You’re the expert here and taking out Dragovic was the reason you joined up in the first place, right? I’d honestly have no fucking clew how to go about planning that sort of shit – so I’m happy to let you take the reigns.”

“I can’t imagine your crew will want to take orders from me.”

“Why don’t you let them decide that?” Geoff asked.

“Yeah dude, let us decide that,” Ray agreed. “I don’t think anyone can complain after all the shit you helped us out with, right guys?”

When no one spoke up to disagree or protest the Vagabond sighed.

“Then… alright,” he said. “If you’re sure.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic dude!” Geoff exclaimed with a smile. “And since I haven’t said it yet – welcome aboard, Vagabond.”

“About that,” the Vagabond spoke up. “I’ve been thinking… if we are going to be working together, than I figure it _is_ a bit awkward to continue calling me by my codename. Might as well go with something a little less formal.”

“What are you saying?” Geoff asked, eye’s wide.

The other sat up straighter in their seats and Jeremy found himself leaning forward.

The Vagabond breathed out, almost resigned. “I’m saying… you can call me Ryan.”

“Ryan?” Ray asked. “That your real name?”

“Does it matter?” the Vagabond asked.

“Fuck no, just being nosy. I’ll call you Princess Diddlefingers if that’s what you wanna be called, dude. But Ryan’s cool too.”

The Vagabond simply shrugged in response. “Fair enough.”

Geoff shook his head, smirking a little. He stepped forward, hand held out in front of him. “Well then… welcome to the crew, Ryan.”

Jeremy and the rest of the crew watched as the Vagabond… _Ryan..._ slowly reached out to shake Geoff’s hand.

 

* * *

 

The sun was setting, bright as a blood spill over Los Santos. Jack stood out by Geoff’s pool, soaking in the last warmth of the day, a joint rather sloppily rolled by Michael pressed between her lips.

Night was on its way.

And then, it would be time to move.

Behind her, Jack heard the glass door slide open. Geoff padded up quietly behind her. He placed one hand on her waist and used the other to pluck the joint from between her fingers, stealing it for himself.

“Hey!” she protested. She sunk back against him, a dead weight in his arms.

“Watch it,” Geoff said with a laugh, propping her up. “God, you weigh a ton.”

“Asshole,” she grumbled.

Resting his chin on her shoulder, Geoff passed the joint back to her. “God, that shit takes me back.”

“Me too,” she replied with a sigh.

“You okay?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her.

“Fine,” she replied. “Why?”

“Dunno. You’ve been quiet as dicks all day.”

“I’m just a little tired. Seriously. I’m okay,” she replied, trying to sound reassuring.

“So… no regrets then?”

She turned knocking her head against his. “No regrets, asshole.”

“Yeah? Me too… asshole,” he replied with a laugh. “No regrets.”

“Good,” she said, slipping gently out of his grip. She glanced up at the sky again, the sunset had darkened to just a tinge of gold and maroon on the horizon.

“Gonna head out?” Geoff asked, watching her. “Jeremy said you want to go pick up the last car on Dragovic’s list tonight.”

She nodded. “The Z type? Yeah. Might as well get it done. I’m thinking I’ll take the girls with me, have some… bonding time, ya know?”

“You don’t have to do it tonight. Sounds like the guy who owns it has just been keeping it sitting in a garage in Hawick. Shouldn’t be a tough boost.”

“I know,” she replied with a shrug. “But I just wanna get it over with. Sooner this is done, the sooner we can move on, right?”

“If you say so. You want me to come with?”

Jack shook her head. “Nahh, like I said, bonding time.”

“Well all-fucking-right then. The hooligans have been partying a little too hard in there; so I think I’ll just let ‘em crash here. So I better stick around and babysit, anyway. Gus and the Vagabond… _Ryan_ already bailed,” he added, correcting himself. “Man, that’s gonna take some getting used to.”

“No kidding,” she replied. “You know, I think he was a little uncomfortable with all the attention.”

Geoff laughed. “Our little masked maniac is shy.”

“Aww,” Jack said with a grin. “I can’t believe I’m cooing over the goddamned Vagabond.”

“I can’t believe the goddamned Vagabond wants to be called _Ryan_.”

“What wrong with Ryan?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Geoff replied with a shrug. “I just figured his name would be a little more… menacing, you know. Like _Vorlax the Devourer_ or something.”

Jack huffed out a laugh. “That sounds like the shittiest Dungeons and Dragons enemy ever. And besides, he’s a person, not a monster.”

Geoff nodded, sobering up a little. “Yeah… you’re right.”

“I usually am,” Jack replied with a sigh. She turned towards the door back into the house. Inside, she could see Michael and Gavin arguing about something. Kerry and Jeremy were laughing at them. Lindsay was leaning over by Ray, showing him something on her phone.

Everything was about to change. She didn’t want to lose what she had with Geoff. She didn’t want to lose the place she had found in the new crew, or the new friends she had made among all of them.

But she had to do this.

Mica had placed her life in Jack’s hands.

And now, she was waiting.

“I better go,” Jack said softly, turning back to Geoff. She leaned against him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before moving towards the door.

“Okay,” he said, a little dazed. “You girls have fun with…”

“The orgies, blood sacrifices and howling at the moon?” she asked teasingly.

“Yeah, that,” Geoff replied, laughing. “Be safe out there, call me when you’re done.”

“Sure thing. Have fun with the rascals.”

He rolled his eyes. “Night Jack.”

“Goodnight,” she called back before stepping through the door.

 

* * *

 

It was almost time. Mica had been trying to discreetly pack her bag all day, but it was difficult, with Twila and Cecily lingering around. Dragovic was away at a late night meeting with some Family members. He normally was an early to bed, early to rise sort of person, but even he had to accommodate a few of the high ranking mobsters more nocturnal schedules.

With Dragovic and his own group of elite bodyguards gone for most of the night, it meant Mica had only Twila and Cecily to worry about. They were both formidable in their own right, but she was confident that Twila would be too worried about hurting her to really put up much of a fight. And she was certain she could outrun and outmaneuver the much larger and stronger Cecily.

So it _had_ to be tonight. She didn’t know when an opportunity like this would arise again. While her bodyguards were finishing their dinner, Mica gathered up as much as she could fit into her duffle bag.

She ignored just about everything Dragovic had given her. The beautiful jewelry, the glittery dresses, the fancy perfumes – no matter how expensive it all was, it was worthless to her. She had never wanted his gaudy trinkets or paltry favors. Mica had always seen them for what they were – thinly veiled attempts to win her care and affection.

As if a couple of sparkly odds and ends could make her forget what had happened to her family.

Mica instead took only was either essential or sentimental. She tucked a few of her father’s favorite books into her bag and slipped the butterfly knife he had given her into her pocket. She hugged the stuffed rabbit her mother had placed in her crib as a baby before setting that inside too, along with the family photo album they had once worked on together.

Remembering the other photo she had stolen from Dragovic’s room, Mica pulled it out of her pocket, tucking it into the album too.

She pushed the duffle bag back under her bed after everything was packed away. After glancing back at the door to make sure Twila and Cecily weren’t snooping around, Mica slipped on her tennis shoes, tied her hair up into a ponytail and went to her window to watch the sky.

 

* * *

 

“This is insane, you do know that right?” Kerry asked from behind the wheel of her van.

“I know,” Jack replied tersely. She was seated in the passenger seat, staring out the window and trying not to think too hard about what she was about to do.

“Like verging on suicidal insane,” Lindsay agreed, leaning forward from the backseat.

“I _know_ ,” Jack said again, her heart thrumming a million miles a minute. “I… just… _can’t_ leave Mica there though. Trapped with that… _monster_. Plus, she left me another message this morning. Told me if she didn’t get out now, she might lose the chance forever. Am I supposed to ignore a scared, innocent girl whose asking for my help?”

“A message?” Lindsay asked.

Jack silently pulled the note she had been carrying around all day from her pocket, passing it over to Lindsay.

“ _Dear Jack_ ,” Lindsay said, reading the note aloud. “ _I’m so sorry to do this, but my time is running out. I can see that you and your friend Geoff are good people. That’s why I asked you for help. Dragovic is getting more and more suspicious of me each day, and it’s getting harder and harder to move around freely. I’m afraid that soon, he’ll cut off my contact with the outside world completely. And in a month’s time, he’ll be leaving for Italy. I don’t know what will happen then, but I know that I have to do this – now or never. I’m going to escape tonight, at half past midnight. Dragovic will be at a late night meeting. So it’ll be just my two bodyguards with me. I’m going to try to slip past them. I don’t have any weapons, or even anywhere to go, but I’m still going to try. If you’re able to help me, in any small way, I would be forever grateful and in your debt. If not, I understand_.”

“Fucking hell,” Kerry swore, swerving down a curve in the road. “That’s some depressing stuff.”

“She left an email address,” Lindsay said softly, looking up. “Did you respond?”

“I did,” Jack replied.

“What’d you say?”

“I told her I’d be there to pick her up with a chopper before 12:30,” Jack replied simply.

“A chopper?” Kerry asked. “Aren’t we going to go get the fancy car? The Z-Type?”

“We are, it’s all part of the plan,” Jack replied with a nod. “That’s why I needed your guy’s help. Once we steal the Z-Type you can head home. I’ll do the rest. You can tell Geoff what’s going on or don’t, I don’t care.”

“So you want to go in alone?” Lindsay leaned forward again, grabbing her shoulder. “Jack, you can’t.”

Jack breathed in heavily, trying to sound confident and determined, even if she didn’t necessarily feel either of those things at the moment.

“I can. And I will.”

“Then…” Lindsay said quietly. “I’ll go with you.”

“What?” Jack questioned, shaking her head. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

“Too dangerous for me but not for you? _Bullshit_. I’m coming and you can’t stop me. Besides, I owe you one, remember? After you saved my bacon at the Flynt farm, the least I can do is make sure your ass doesn’t get shot, right?”

“Lindsay…” Jack protested.

“If Lindsay is in then I’m in too,” Kerry spoke up, nodding as if to reassure herself. “You helped me out too. I thought I was going to go out in a blaze of fucking glory in that warehouse where all those Savage assholes ambushed us. But you came… and you saved us. So… I’m in.”

“You guys… I can’t make you do this. Dragovic will-”

“You aren’t making us,” Lindsay interrupted her. “We’re helping cause we want to. We’re grown-ass women who can make our own choices! And today, I choose to say fuck Dragovic! Lets go save ourselves a damsel in distress!”

 

* * *

 

In fairytales, the princess was always rescued by either a knight in shining armor or a handsome prince.

If the knight failed to rescue the princess, defeated by the terrible Dragon, then it was the prince who came to her aid, sweeping her off her feat with a dazzling smile and flowery words.

At least, that’s how all the stories usually went.

But it was not a handsome prince that came to save Mica that night, but rather three lovely and fearsome princesses, riding in on a dragon of their own.

Mica heard the chopper before she saw it. In that moment, the roaring buzz of the helicopter blades whirring through the sky was the most beautiful sound in the entire world.

Looking out her window, up into the blue-black sky, Mica could make out the shape of a large cargo bob, hovering towards the house, hauling along a car beneath it.

Within the house, Mica could hear a clamor as Twila and Cecily realized what was going on. She waited, and before long she saw them out the window too, dashing out into the courtyard, guns at the ready.

Time to move.

Mica gathered up her duffel bag from beneath the bed, slinging it over her shoulder.

Dragovic always kept all the windows and doors locked down when he wasn’t around - all except for one. So Mica had no choice.

She had to go through the front door.

She could only hope that Jack’s planned distraction with the helicopter and the car delivery would be enough to keep Twila and Cecily from noticing her escape. The plan was for Mica to clear the property, traipsing through the woods across the road from Dragovic’s, all the way to the small rest stop tucked away in the hills, where Jack would pick her up.

Mica slipped into the dark foyer. The front door was just ahead. Outside, she could just barely make out the sound of shouting voices over the din of the chopper’s blades.

She reached out for the doorknob, turning it slowly and pushing it open.

The night air was dry and cool, and Mica breathed in deeply as she stepped outside. To her left she could see Jack’s cargo bob hovering just above the lawn, towing a sleek, black luxury coupe that was exactly Dragovic’s style. There were two people leaning out of the side of the chopper, shouting down to someone on the ground, presumably Twila or Cecily, though Mica couldn’t make them out over the shrubbery in the courtyard.

Mica crept away from the chopper, towards the right side of the courtyard. She was readying herself to climb over the low walls that bordered the ranch when she felt someone grab her arm, spinning her around roughly.

Mica looked up, eyes wide, heart racing.

Cecily.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the bodyguard asked, her face taut, her hair wild from the windstorm kicked up by the chopper.

“I’m… I just, came to see what was going on!”

Cecily’s eye drifted to the duffel bag slung over her back. “Running away?”

Mica shook her head wildly. “No, I was-”

Fuck. Fuck _Fuck._

Suddenly, Cecily released her arm. “You better go quickly, then. Dragovic will be returning any minute.”

Mica gaped at her. “What?”

“You heard me,” Cecily replied coolly. “Get in the chopper and go. You’ll never make it out of here on foot. I’ll distract Twila.”

“But… I don’t understand?”

Cecily shook her head. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to do much to help you until now, but my hands have been tied and I have other duties. Just know this – your father still has friends in the Family – and so do you. Watch yourself out there, Mica. Now go.”

Mica didn’t need to be told twice. She bolted across the courtyard toward the chopper, ducking behind the bushes. Up ahead, she could hear Twila arguing with the women inside the cargo bob.

“You’re not supposed to deliver that thing here! Are you stupid? Get out of here before I take you down!”

“We’re just following orders, this is where we were told to take the car!” one of the women screamed back. “Now where do you want it?”

Mica waited, listening for Cecily’s distraction. After a minute, she heard more shouting coming from behind her.

“Twila! Come here! I can’t find Mica!” Cecily cried.

Mica saw Twila swear under her breath, lowering her gun.

“You better be gone by the time I come back, or there’ll be hell to pay!” she shouted up at the chopper before taking off.

As soon as she was out of sight, Mica made her move.

She climbed over the wall, ducking low and dashing towards the chopper before it took off.

“Hey!” she called, waving her hands. “Wait!”

“Jack, stop!” one of the woman yelled. “She’s here! She’s here!”

The cargo bob slowed to a halt.

“Change of plans!” Mica cried up to them. “Can I come with you?”

Everything happened in a surreal blur of motion. One minute Mica was clambering up the hood of the car to reach up the chopper, the next she was being pulled inside by two pairs of arms, panting and shaking.

And then they were ascending. Her crew of rescuers inside the chopper held onto her as she peered outside. Down below, she could make out Dragovic’s convoy, pulling into the courtyard.

A stream of suited men piled out of the black cars, guns drawn up towards the soaring cargo bob. Then, Dragovic himself stepped out of one of trucks, slow and graceful as serpent.

He stared up at her, face a blank mask.

She stared back down at him, heart racing, mind reeling.

For a minute, she thought he might have his men shoot her down from the sky.

But he simply motioned for his men to stand down, watching passively as she flew away.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of a knock on the door. After the crew’s night of partying, he was crashing on Geoff’s couch along with Michael, while Ray and Gavin slept upstairs.

He rose from his side of the sectional, bleary eyed and groggy, his head pounding. He must have shed his clothes some time in the night, as he was dressed in only his boxers and undershirt.

Grabbing a blanket from the couch and wrapping it around his shoulders, Jeremy stood.

“What’s going on?” Michael asked from his nest of blankets, voice hoarse.

“Nothing,” Jeremy whispered. “Someone’s at the door, probably just Jack.”

“Mmm,” Michael groaned, flopping back down. “Should I get Geoff?”

“Nahh, let him sleep, I’ll let her in.”

Jeremy padded into the entryway, rubbing his eyes. He went to the door and pulled it open.

It wasn’t Jack.

Trevor was standing there, looking both somber and tired.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Surprise.”

“Trevor?” Jeremy asked, startled. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

Trevor nodded. “I know, sorry, but it couldn’t wait. I tried calling you, and I went to your place. You weren’t there so I figured you might be here.”

“Dude…” Jeremy said, shaking his head. “How did you know I was here?”

“I know you work for Geoff Ramsey, so I figured his house would be the next obvious place to look. But this isn’t about that… Listen, I’m heading out of town soon, so I had to do this now. It’s been really fun hanging out and boosting cars with you these last couple of days. I need you to know, that part was real.”

“Trevor what?” Jeremy demanded. “What do you mean, “ _That part was real_ ”, what the hell are you talking about?”

Trevor sighed, reaching down to pull something out of his pocket. Silently, he handed Jeremy a single playing card.

Jeremy accepted the card, an ace of diamonds, staring down at it blankly. A phone number was written on the face of the card, and on the back it was printed with a logo reading “Lucky Diamond Casino”.

“I don’t understand,” he said blankly, glancing back up at Trevor.

“I’m sorry, just following orders,” Trevor replied. “Give that to Geoff. I’ve got a message for him too.”

Jeremy felt his heart skip a beat.

What the fuck was going on?

“What message?” he asked warily.

“Lucky wants to thank Geoff for attending his party, and looks forward to meeting him very soon. Oh, and if he wants to slay the dragon, he should call that number,” Trevor replied, reaching out to flick the card in Jeremy’s hand.

“Trevor... I still don’t…” Jeremy trailed off, staring at Trevor, who was running his hands through his hair, looking thoroughly worn.

“Wish I could say more, dude. But that’s it. I have to go,” he said softly, backing away from the door. “Good luck to you and your crew. Hopefully we’ll see each other soon.”

With that, he disappeared down the driveway and into the dark.

Jeremy stood there, clutching the card, thoughts a blur. Michael softly padded up beside him, resting his arm on Jeremy’s shoulder.

“Who was that?” he whispered, staring down at the card in Jeremy’s hands.

“I… honestly don’t know,” was all Jeremy could reply.

 

* * *

 

The sound of his phone ringing from his nightstand startled Geoff from sleep. Groaning, he reached over for it, accidentally knocking his alarm clock and a glass of water over in the process.

“Fuck,” he swore, sitting up in his bed.

He ignored the mess, grabbing his phone and pressing the answer button.

“Hello?” he asked wearily, holding the phone up to his ear.

“Mr. Ramsey,” came the low, cool voice on the other end.

_Dragovic._

Geoff straightened up, clearing his throat. “Uh… yes, this is Geoff. What can I do for you…sir?”

Dragovic had never called him personally before. He always had one of his goons contact Geoff whenever he needed to get a hold of him.

“This is a courtesy call… a warning if you will.”

Geoff drew in a shaky breath, heart fluttering. “What?”

“Do you know the whereabouts of three members of your crew, Mr. Ramsey? Because if not, I just saw them at my home – kidnapping my daughter.”

“What?” Geoff asked again, voice shaking. “No that’s-”

“My men are on their way to your place of residence as we speak. I don’t know your involvement in this, but I sincerely hope, both for your sake and the sake of our relationship that you weren’t aware of Ms. Pattillo’s actions.”

“Jack… oh, fuck, what did she-”

“Return my daughter to me, Mr. Ramsey,” Dragovic interrupted, voice hard and venomous and full of emotion that Geoff had thought he simply wasn’t capable of. “Or you and your entire crew are dead.”

The line went silent.

The phone slipped from Geoff’s fingers. His mind was blank; a stunning silence seemed to have descended upon the world. Geoff glanced around the room in a daze, as if looking for some sign that this wasn’t real, a lie, a dream, a drunken hallucination…

Geoff’s eyes fell upon his crew; Gavin, Ray, Michael and Jeremy were all standing in the doorway of his bedroom. Though half dressed and wrapped in blankets, they looked wide-awake already.

“What’s going on?” Gavin asked, stepping into the room.

“We need to leave,” Geoff said, voice rising in panic.

“What?” Gavin asked in alarm. “Why?”

Geoff stood, staring numbly at them. “Dragovic just put a hit out on the whole crew. They’re coming for us. _Now_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Part Three! The first chapter of Part Four "Ships That Pass In The Night" will be up within the next two weeks. Got some commissions that I'm a little behind on that I need to focus on for a bit, but after they are done I'll be back!!  
> Thanks again everyone for reading, commenting and the kudos! It means alot! <3
> 
> Chapter Song Title:  
> Get Ready to Die by Magic Dirt (GTA 4)


End file.
